Pirate Overlord
by Omega Overlord
Summary: Story 2: The Fourth Overlord is plauged by the shadow of his mighty father, and is left with no other recourse than to go beyond. A world of gold and glory is ripe for conquest, for the one that is willing to take it.
1. Legacy

Chapter 1: Legacy

Netherworld Tower: Throne Room

The Fourth Overlord, Acheron to his Mistress, formerly mistresses, let out a silent sigh as he half-listened to the last of a long line of petitions he was hearing for the day, this one from another bloated, self-absorbed Empire bureaucrat that thought themselves entitled to his time. What those businessmen learned soon after coming here was that they were tolerated, if only just, by the powers to be, that is to say, him. Still, that lesson didn't fully sink in until he dropped them through the hole in the middle of his throne room, the gateway that opened at his whim, sending those blubbery buffoons off to some random destination around the world. He couldn't begin to count how many of his petitioners he had killed like this, but he also couldn't be brought to care. Juno had been more than capable of dealing with them in his stead, but that was no longer possible as she was quite dead.

He glanced up at the source of the deed that was wafting her way through the black stalactites that lined the ceiling, Ghost Fay, formerly the corrupt version of the fairy Queen Fay, lady of light. He had been quite leery when the woman, that had at the time called herself Dark Fay, had jumped the gun and followed him home. He had however, been quick to change his tune after a rather scintillating session of lovemaking. His earlier fears turned out to be quite justified when he returned home after consolidating his hold over the Golden Hills after the sacking of Empire City. The then Dark Fay had been waiting for him in the Private Quarters, that in and of itself not bothersome. What was bothersome however, was that clearly displayed behind the fairy were the corpses of his two other mistresses, Juno and Kelda, whom had been stabbed a multitude of times with a large knife still held in Dark Fay's hand. When it came to Juno, he really thought he could have gotten over it. After all, the Empire woman had been little more than a walking pair of breasts for him to bed despite her usefulness in other settings. But Kelda though, he had known her since he was a little boy in the town of Nordburg, spent half of his life around her, really come to love her. He had struck Dark Fay down on the spot, but her ghost had stuck around anyway, still very much in love with him. The only good thing about that was that the Ghost version was much closer to the Fay he had known before inadvertently corrupting her, someone he had liked a lot more.

Not in the mood for listening to an Empire floozy any more he waved his hand and opened the Pit, drawing a modicum of relief from the scream. He then snapped his fingers, summoning the Minion Master, Gnarl, who seemed to simply materialize next to the fur-covered throne.

The old minion spoke, as fawningly as ever. "Yes, most depraved of Evil masters? I await your command."

He slid around on the throne, twisting himself until he was both sitting up straight and facing the wrinkled old minion. "**You've been going on for a few days about how this same thing happened to my father. He took over everything and got bored?**"

Gnarl's claws clicked together, seemingly in anticipation. "Yes young master, not in those words but yes. His Supreme Evilness was indeed quite dissatisfied when the last of these lands bowed before him. Couple that with the loss of Mistress Velvet and he was quite depressed."

He shot a glance towards the group of bureaucrats that were being roughly herded back out the portal to the surface, silently wishing that he had a dwarven cannon strong enough to blow all of them away with a single round. "**I think you also mentioned something about how he dealt with that depression, something about going from this world to another one. How did he do that?**"

Gnarl's eyes glittered with excitement. "Am I sensing that the Sanctuary Smasher is interested in following in his father's footsteps?"

Even though his solid gold, glowing eyes didn't have pupils he gave a mighty effort at rolling his eyes. "**Yeah Gnarl, would I have asked if I wasn't interested? So can you skip your little happy dance and just tell me how the old man managed it? Because a new world to enslave would be really nice about now.**" He added to himself, "**And to the Abyss with these egotistic Empire assholes.**"

Gnarl obliged; "Well Young Master, to be perfectly honest I think your great father simply got lucky with the Tower Heart, and I'm sure you remember that-"

He finished the sentence, exasperation flowing through him as quickly as the lava all around the Netherworld. "**I used the Tower Heart as slingshot ammo to bust down the gates of Empire City.**" He leaned down on the stone arm of his throne to get closer to the old minion. "**What I want to know is if he had anything else that he used to go back and forth, or elsewhere.**"

Gnarl cowered under his gaze. "Well, His Evilness did have a very large collection of war trophies and other such devices. There does exist the possibility that some of them survived the detonation of the Tower Heart."

He shot a glance along the walls, out the windows at the brimstone falling around the Tower. "**Anything particularly powerful that the Old Man left behind before Florian tampered with the Tower Heart?**"

Gnarl rattled off the first possibility. "His Godliness had acquired a large jar of a plague, powerful enough to turn an entire city into a necropolis."

A shudder of disgust rushed through him. "**Ugh, hell no. You've spoken of that thing before and I want no part of it. I refuse to run around cleaning up zombie body parts, and I seriously doubt a plague is going to do anything to help me get from here, to somewhere else. Next item.**"

As the Minion Master went on he, as he often was, set upon by the sense that nothing he did would ever live up to the example set by his father. That was part of the reason that he always referred to the former, though technically still alive, Overlord derogatorily as "The Old Man." The other part, and he would never admit this to anyone, was that he was angry his father and mother had abandoned him, even if he knew it wasn't their fault. He didn't even know what they looked like, as Gnarl was only ever able to give him grossly exaggerated descriptions of his father's epic deeds with no attention at all to what he looked like. Of course, of his mother all he could get was rather lewd descriptions of her pale,heaving bosom. It went without saying that he really didn't want to think of his mother in that capacity. Still, he knew Gnarl had been spying on him whenever he retired with one of his mistresses up until now, so it stood to reason the old minion would have done the same thing before he was born.

He held up his hand, snapping his fingers multiple times to grab attention. "**Whoa, stop right there. You said something about a sword, something that almost killed the Old Man? Why couldn't you have mentioned this before, like when I was tackling the Glorious Empire?**"

Gnarl backed up a step, just to be on the safe side. "As you said, Young Master, I m only telling you what was there. I don't know if any of these goods survived the Cataclysm. I'm not any more omniscient than you sire!"

He glanced up at his sole mistress, dreading the notion of trying to talk to her but finding it necessary. "**Fay, while you were holed up in the Wastelands did you ever visit the remains of the Dark Tower?**"

The dead fairy's glowing aura dimmed, whether from the topic of conversation or something else was not apparent. "When I was alive I had no reason to set foot in that cursed ruin. I spent all of my time shepherding the last vestiges of the elves and every other being of magic."

He responded, "**Great.**" Then added under his breath; "**Thanks for nothing.**"

A moment passed while he fumed silently, before Gnarl broke the silence. "Young Master, my memory is not as sharp as it used to be. If you really are interested in the relics your father left behind, I would suggest that you explore the ruins yourself. After all, even if you find nothing you might still learn valuable secrets to employ for your reign."

He leaned forward on his throne, resting his cupped hands on the handle of his flaming mace, the Apokolyptor. "**Rooting around in the burned out husk of the Old Man's home…**" Something about it felt wrong to him, but he couldn't quite pin it down. "**Oh to hell with it, I'm going on a raid. The dead don't need their things.**"

He swung his seven foot frame forward to stand, shouldering his mace in the same motion. A few steps across the fractured floor stones and he leaped through the Netherworld Portal, bound for the Wastelands.

Netherworld Tower: Throne Room

Gnarl slowly plodded his way up the stairs to the Private Quarters so he could watch the antics of the young Overlord, cackling aloud the moment the boy left the Tower. After all, no matter what happened in the ruins it was an enjoyable way to pass the time, at least until the Real Overlord could figure out how to circumvent the void that stood between the worlds. The Young Overlord was good, no question, but simply couldn't hold a candle to a God.

He muttered aloud, " Don't worry Sire, I'll make sure the boy doesn't get himself killed before you return."

He shuddered to think of what would happen if he should fail at that task. At best, he would be ripped asunder and Mistress Ivy would use his hide for a new pair of boots.

Wastelands: Netherworld Gate

Acheron stood atop a high bluff that overlooked the majority of the wastelands, staring at the bleak, dismal crags of rock that turned the area into a maze of gullies and warrens, all of it illuminated with the sickly blue glow of the deadly slime and the cracks of lightning that lanced across the tortured sky. He couldn't help but try and imagine the place as it had been before the Cataclysm. It had been described to him as a verdant plain overcast by a blood-red sky, a symbol of the power of the God of Evil. But no matter how much he wracked his brain the picture just refused to form, he could only see it as it was, a ruin.

He sighed as he turned away from the vista, summoning a hoard of the minions with a wave of his hand. It wasn't as though his moping was going to get him anywhere, but he still felt like doing it just for the heck of it. Besides, practice and observation told him that ladies liked the tall, dark, brooding stranger. And standing at seven point two with completely black skin, he definitely fit that description. The thought brought a crooked smile to his face, even hidden as it was inside his infernal helm. He'd consistently won points with the minions, Gnarl especially, for essentially parading his female conquests in front of them. It took a particular kind of woman to be comfortable with that notion, or an exceptionally gilded tongue. The latter of which he was quite proud to claim he possessed, and a certain lack of shame.

He waved his minions forward, twenty Blues and thirty Reds, to start clearing the toxic slime out of his way so he could walk without really paying attention to where he put his feet. Occasionally, like now, he found himself wondering what might have been different if Florian Greenheart had never broken the Tower Heart and his father had never been trapped on the far side of a dimensional void. He wondered if he would have matured into the same man he was, an admittedly pathological womanizer, because if the actions of the minions were any indication, he'd picked that up from them. On the flip side, he had heard that his father had been the very model of the gentleman Overlord while still being every bit as Evil as the God he had killed.

He shook his head and voiced his thoughts. "**Heh, killing a god, not much call for that anymore. I wouldn't even know where to find one if I wanted to catch up to the Old Man. Even then, the only one I can think of is the Mother Goddess, and that is most definitely not a role I want to take over.**"

Despite his desire to the contrary, an unbidden image of one of the elven priestesses literally rolled through his mind and caused him to shudder. Privately, he marveled at the stupidity of the elves. The act of taking a perfectly alluring elven maiden and force-feeding her until she emulated the statue of a massively obese "goddess." The train of though compounded itself, bringing him back mentally to his first encounter with one of the "women" in the jungles of Evernight. A woman that could barely walk essentially was catapulting herself through the air and landing on him, that would have smothered him to death had he not been strong enough to push her swollen mass off of him. Even then, he had only been able to clear his face enough so that he could breathe, and it had taken an hour of his minions beating on the priestess's back and sides before she even passed out. Only then had he been able to escape. Following that, he had rolled the blob into a very secluded grotto and tied her to the cavern wall, also gagging the elf so she couldn't call for help. At the time, and he was still of the same opinion, he reasoned that she would be able to escape after she shrank by a very wide margin.

His eyes were drawn upwards to the boiling sky, thoughts again being voiced. "**That elf should at least be able to walk once those restraints are loose enough. Hell, she'd probably thank me if she weren't brainwashed by the rest of those flower-loving nitwits.**"

Something hit his foot and pulled both his eyes and his thoughts back to the present. He was mildly surprised to find that he had already arrived at the ruins of the Dark Tower. And he almost found himself thanking his memories for passing the time so effectively, with emphasis on the he was standing he was looking up the fallen spire of the Dark tower, canted as it was at about a forty five degree angle to the ground, and could clearly see the sky through the collapsed interior. It would be a very bad pun to call it a "holy" structure, so he refrained from doing so out loud.

He glanced towards the crowd of minions, and used his left hand to point to a spot a few paces in front of what he might call the entrance of the ruins. "**Stay right there until I'm finished. I don't want one of you idiots to break something and cause another huge explosion.**"

Technically he didn't need to speak to get his minions to do what he wanted, he just did it anyway because he felt like it. Besides, his subjects responded better when they knew what his voice sounded like, or so he liked to think. Last time he had paid a visit to Empire City he had been able to disperse the crowd of his "admirers" with two words. He used that word loosely, because the crowd of prepubescent girls that flocked to his arrival were, without exception, hideous. He found that astounding, because that made Juno the single attractive Empire woman he had ever met.

Tearing his mind away from women, if only briefly, he started poking around the piles of debris that crowded the little space there was. Something shiny caught his attention briefly, before he realized that it was simply a necklace crafted with some metal wires and hung with what looked to be animal teeth. He picked it up anyway, manipulating it in the dim light so he could see all of it. His first impression had only been partly right, along with the teeth there were claws the size of gold coins. He wondered momentarily what animal they would come from, before the thought occurred to him that he was probably just holding one of his father's war trophies, the remains of some great beast the Old Man had slain. His arm started to move to toss the object aside, but he stopped, something made him hold on to the trinket.

He held the centerpiece, one of the teeth, in the palm of his hand and just stared for a long while. "**Dammit, Old Man, you had to choose that particular time to abscond with the whole family?**"

With more than a few reservations he set his mace down and started to fumble with the clasp on the necklace for a few moments before looping the piece of man-jewelry around his neck. He felt the points of the teeth settle against the top of his chest, and though he didn't have a mirror on hand he knew that the token would be all but invisible to most people. An onlooker would need to be as tall as, or taller than him to see it, and that just wasn't very likely.

Almost the instant his hands fell to his sides something disturbed the air, a light, icy whisper that sent a shiver down his spine. "_Does someone disturb my rest after so long?_"

Both hands went to his mace as his eyes slowly scanned the darkened ruin. "**Depends on who's talking, I wasn't aware the Old Man had any live prisoners, particularly after the Tower Heart exploded.**"

The voice grew slightly louder as he backed towards the one intact wall, and he couldn't shake the feeling that his ears weren't actually hearing whoever was speaking. "_Old Man? Why, then you must be that Acheron boy I kept hearing about before I was entombed. I haven't heard that name in almost twenty years._"

He turned to the wall, tapping it with the base of his mace to see if he could make any progress by just breaking the wall down. "**Then you were here during the Cataclysm, must have been a rough ride.**"

The voice seemed to ignore his probing, instead responding to his words. "_Cataclysm you say? Well, it didn't feel all that catastrophic to me, it was more like being reborn, so to speak._" He stood parallel to the wall and took aim, swatting the wall once and drawing a comment from the voice. "_Ooh hoo hoo, you're absolutely blazing hot._"

Not exactly listening, his response was almost automatic. "**Well, yes, I know I am.**"

A noise that resembled laughter, but sounded closer to a wind chime, preceded another string of words. "_Well, I'm quite sure you are, but I was intending to convey how close you were to finding me._"

He froze before he could start swinging in earnest. "**Ah, of course, I knew that. What did you think I was talking about?**"

Before the voice could answer he swung at the wall with all of the considerable strength he could muster, cracking the old stone open like his mace would to an egg, complete overkill. And over the sound of crumbling stone he heard the sound of stone hitting something like glass. He stepped through the new opening, recoiling only slightly when he heard the crunch of something beneath his boot. Once he confirmed that it was only a small black gem he turned his eyes ahead again, what he saw left him speechless. The chamber, or perhaps grotto was more apt, was coated completely with a thick layer of black crystal that gleamed in the dim light, a light that was coming from the object in the center of the space, what at first seemed to simply be an extension of the crystal formation. As he approached however, he could see that there was a miniature island of raised stone that held the object away from the surrounding crystal.

He checked his surroundings one last time before lowering his guard. "**You know, when I decided to raid the ruins of the Old Man's home I really hoped to find more than a disembodied voice in a shiny room. It's a little anticlimactic.**"

Said disembodied voice immediately chimed in, again preceded by that bizarre tinkling sound. "_And you were hoping to find, what, a giant super weapon of doom and destruction that you could use to scare the world into bowing before you? So far as I know the Overlord did not believe in that kind of thing._"

He swung his gaze left and right, trying to pinpoint the source of the voice. "**Fun idea, but I think I already have the whole 'ruling the world'thing down pat. I was actually hoping to find some kind of portal device or some such so I could have, you know, more worlds to take over. You wouldn't happen to have any idea if something like that is still hanging around now, would you?**"

The response seemed to come from the entire room. "_I might, but what's in it for me if I tell you?_"

He slung his mace over his shoulder, deciding to wait for a sign of movement so he could stop looking like an idiot. "**Well that depends, particularly if I knew who or what is speaking.**"

There was a pause, during which he heard only the howling of the wind outside, before the voice answered. "_You haven't figured it out yet? The speaker is right in front of you, right in the center of my glittering little tomb._"

His eyes fell upon the glittering spire of crystal in the center and caught a somewhat familiar shape, a handle. "**Wait, you are kidding me, right?**" He slowly began to pick out the vague shape of a blade, fractured though it was. "**You're some lady talking through this thing from a different place, some kind of otherworldly prison?**"

What he had now identified as a sword laughed at him again. "_Pick me up and maybe you'll find out. I can't do anything while I'm stuck in this tiny room, beautiful though it may be._"

He couldn't quite believe what his ears were hearing, which was enough evidence to him that he wasn't completely crazy. But even if this wasn't the offer it appeared to be, could he really afford to pass it up? Sure he could leave this talking sword here, but then he would be no closer to finding a way to escape the clutches of this world and finding another. Objectively, he could even say that this was far more than he had been expecting. Sure, finding a handful of mighty relics was all well and good, but knowing how to use them was even better.

Tentatively, he reached out his free hand and took hold of what he thought was the handle. "**Ok, now that I'm taking you out of here it might be a gesture of good faith for you to spill some of what you know.**"

There was no response for a good cut of time, then the blade pulsed and black arcs of lightning began twining up his arm. He was dumbstruck for a few moments, and that was long enough for the lightning to reach his head. He uttered one expletive referring to fecal matter before he lost full consciousness.

Astral Plain: Heart of Soul Calibur

Acheron felt sensation return to him all at once, the sudden overload leaving him a little bit dazzled. He turned his golden eyes left and right, taking stock of this new area. From what he could tell, he was standing on some kind of platform floating in nothingness, but in that nothing towers of black crystal seemingly floated by, all of them farther away from his island than was possible to jump. The island itself was made up of still more crystal, but this was a deep blue instead of black, and veins of a brighter blue twined through it like the hairline fissures in real rock.

His gawking was interrupted by the same voice, but this time there was a definite source to it. "_Surprised? You should be I suppose, it isn't everyday that a talking sword with a will of her own tries to possess you._"

He whirled around, Apokalyptor still burning brightly even here. "**Whoa, possess me? Sweet cheeks, you clearly have no idea who you are talking to.**"

The speaker, now a tall statuesque thing that looked to be carved out of ice, kept laughing at him. "_Of course I do. You are Acheron Killgore, son of the God of Evil, and little more than that._" There was a pause during which the laughter grew more intense for a brief period. "_But 'sweet cheeks'? Flattery will get you nowhere in here, no matter how much I like it._"

He started to advance, slowly. "**And why not? Flattery has gotten me into so many places already.**"

A blade appeared in the hand of the figure, a perfect copy of the sword he had picked up save for the color, shining blue. "_And I'm quite sure that it has, but I want out of here, and if you aren't worthy then I'll simply have to use your body to find someone who is._"

The figure stepped forward, both "hands" holding the blade for a vertical strike. He mirrored this action, mace held up to block the blow, a smirk playing across his face as he anticipated the shock of the little extra effect he had added to this weapon over the time he had wielded it. The weapons met, and a fountain of molten metal erupted around the point of impact, spraying towards his opponent in a deadly burst. They staggered back; catching some of the burning fluid with the broadside of the blade but the majority washed over and clung to what could be considered the chest and arms of the crystal figure. Instead of collapsing in pain though, the molten metal eventually slid all the way to the ground and hardened immediately. The places on the figure the metal had touched glowed angry red for a while, but slowly calmed back to a cool blue.

The voice had stopped laughing, and was instead a little hesitant. "_That was, interesting, to say the least._"

He started smiling from ear to ear. "**Isn't it now? Gnarl has always said I had a better knack for magic than The Old Man. Apparently the codger only used magic when he had no other option, or was just being showy. Me, I like to flaunt the fact that I am beyond the ability of any mortal to handle.**" Now it was his turn to laugh, and he did so. "**What's the matter, you scared now? Come over here and try again.**"

The figure did not take the bait. "_I think it is obvious that a head-on attack has already proven itself futile. Therefor, I must insist that you come at me._"

He tossed his mace up, flipping it once before catching it again. "**Same result either way. Any hostile touch is going to shower you with molten metal.**"

Though his opponent had no visible eyes, he felt that he was on the receiving end of an acidic glare. "_I think you're bluffing._"

He dove forward, sweeping his left leg around and taking out his opponent's ankles. They didn't even get to bring the large crystal blade to bear as he sprung back up and pounced, seating himself where the stomach would be on a person and pinning both arms with his feet. If he had been gloating before, this was rubbing salt in the wound, but he liked that. In his mind, it was just another way he could differentiate himself from his father, whom he had heard had been possessed by the notion of fair play.

He chuckled, holding his mace up near his shoulder. "**Do you still think I'm bluffing, because I am fully capable of crushing your face if the situation demands it.**"

The voice sounded a little bit pained. "_Well, ugh, if you did that, how would you learn what you came here to learn?_"

Inside his helmet he smirked, knowing that that argument was a bit of a sucker punch considering that it was perfectly valid. "**Oh I'm sure there is some old hag out there, with her crystal ball and incense, which could tell me everything you have to offer without trying to kill me. Cause I have to say, I've got enough people gunning for me without adding my own weapon to the pile.**"

The "head" of his beaten opponent gestured to the "hand" that still held the strange sword. "_You mean that giant glob of metal you hit me with? I feel obligated to inform you that I am, much better than that poorly constructed, object._"

His smirk morphed into a sneer, mildly irritated that she, and he couldn't help refer to whatever this was as a she, had touched on that rather sore topic. He had never caught on to the intricacies of forging weapons and armor, instead being reduced to using, by Overlording standards, poor molds for new gear. He suspected that he simply lacked the patience for the process.

He wasn't about to concede a point so easily though. "**Really? Well, why don't you convince me of that? This weapon has won me control of practically the entire world and I'm quite fond of it.**"

The voice started to regain that amused quality from before. "_Two things: first, cutting power. That club of yours hits something and stops, whereas I would go straight through the majority of metals, including arcanium plate. I wounded the God of Evil in that exact fashion. Two, can you carry on a lovely conversation with that dead piece of metal?_"

Her second "point" almost made him laugh, but he was too busy processing the first one. If she could cut right through the arcanium than she really was superior to whatever he could get his hands on. He'd be an idiot to not take her up on the offer.

He tried to not sound too eager. "**Let's say I accept, can I expect you to try and take over again?**"

The "face" of the figure beneath him seemed to lose a little bit of its distinction. "_Not at all, you've proven yourself to be at least tolerably worthy. I won't try again, and even if I did I couldn't threaten you anywhere but here, in my twenty year tomb._"

He found himself focusing where her eyes should be. "**Good to know. But you know what else would be good, getting me out of this place.**"

As soon as he spoke he found that the area around him was fading away, and for some reason he found himself disappointed.

Wastelands: Dark Tower Ruins

Acheron suddenly found himself right back where he had been upon losing consciousness, or at least so he thought. Logically speaking, shouldn't he have fallen down if he blacked out?

The voice returned, "_Perhaps, I can allay some of that confusion?_"

His eyes shot down and saw that he was still holding the crystal sword, the black version. "**Yeah, that might be helpful.**"

He turned around and started walking, listening to his new weapon as he went. "_That little confrontation we had all took place inside me, and occupied little more than a flicker of thought. So, as I mentioned, you should be perfectly safe even if I try to surprise you in the middle of a duel._"

He waved the minions away from their guard point and set the blues to clearing his way back to the Netherworld. "**I don't duel, I dominate. That fair play crap is something I'll never understand.**"

On that note, his talking sword shut up and let him walk in silence. Good thing too, because his head was already spinning with all the possibilities that were arrayed before him if this deal panned out.

Netherworld Tower: Private Quarters

Gnarl felt his eye sockets grow wider as the young Master started to return from the ruins. He momentarily thought he was seeing things as the black blade clutched in the boy's hand was almost too good to be true. If the Cataclysm had finished the job that the Overlord had started, then Soul Calibur really would be a great asset. He might even be forced to stop leading the boy away from the worst of the fighting for fear that it would become too easy. Why was that a problem? Because the son of the Overlord had proven that when things were too easy he got sloppy, and getting sloppy in another world would most likely end up with the both of them dead. Acheron immediately, and his minion hide shredded upon the return of the real Overlord. Still, he had to give the boy credit. No mean willpower was required to control a weapon of that grade, perhaps the boy could live up to the family name after all, only time would tell.


	2. Set Sail

Chapter 2: Set Sail

Netherworld Tower: Throne Room

Acheron stood on one of the two balconies that looked out on the great expanse of the Netherworld, eying the countless holes and crevices in the rock walls of the cavern that were tinted orange by the lava far below. If what he was hearing was correct, and he had no reason to doubt, he had had the means to go to another world sitting under his nose the whole time. According to his sword, whom he had heard Gnarl refer to as "Soul Calibur," every hole in the walls of the Netherworld went somewhere different. It was a little bit frustrating to be honest, but he had the options open to him now, and that's all that really mattered.

He looked down to where he had leaned Soul Calibur against the railing. "**So, remind me why exactly you know about this if you've been stuck in that cave for the past twenty years. You don't seem to be a psychic.**"

The light emanating from the crystal "eye" flickered in time with the sword's words. "_The Overlord, your father, brought me down here two or three times. Something about wanting to see how the atmosphere of the Netherworld would affect me. The answer to that was 'not much' but, well, I do have to say that I quite enjoyed the feeling of his hand on my handle_._Also, I think he was also here for the same reason you are now, more worlds to subjugate._"

He took the words at face value, for a moment, and then he actually started to think about it. "**Wait, what exactly are you saying? It almost sounds like…**" He trailed off, unable to find the words to finish the thought.

Soul Calibur responded once he ran out of words. "_I was simply saying that he had a very powerful grip, like he knew what he was doing and was extremely good at it. Of course, yours isn't half bad at all_."

He muttered to himself. "**Right, and there is no way that could be misconstrued as something dirty.**"

The sword apparently heard him. "_I don't understand, why wouldn't I enjoy being wielded by someone who knows what they're doing?_" When he didn't answer she changed the topic. "_So, have you decided which one you're going to pick?_"

He turned his eyes back towards the walls of the Netherworld. "**I'm trying to figure out that right now, but I'm also trying to avoid the one that'll take me to where the Old Man is.**"

Soul Calibur immediately stated, "_The one up high, with the red glow pouring out of it. I should know, after all it is the world I came from as well. You don't want Him coming back?_"

His eyes narrowed to slits. "**No, not really, because as far as I'm concerned he's history. If he can find his way back, and I think that's a very big if, then maybe I'd be open to the idea, but not before.**"

The crystal blade seemed to chuckle. "_I see, someone has a few daddy issues._"

He countered, "**And somebody could easily be dropped into the lava all the way at the bottom of the Netherworld.**"

Soul Calibur attempted to placate him. "_I get it, say no more, touchy subject. But I am pleased that you refer to me as 'someone' and not 'something,' my last wielder wouldn't talk to me period, although I was probably a lot less fun to talk to back then._"

He shot a sidelong glance towards the sword. "**At the moment I can't say you're that much fun to talk to either. You seem deadest on laughing at my every action.**"

The response seemed halfway between a whine and a placation. "_But you really are funny, that's a good thing. Your father was all business wherever he went, that's boring!_"

He absentmindedly reached out and plucked the crystal weapon from her stand. "**You and Gnarl tell it quite differently. That overgrown walnut makes it sound like the Old Man could walk into a castle, speak three words, and have the whole place quivering at his feet. To top it off, then he'd get back to the Tower and almost shake the thing apart with my mother and three aunts.**" He reached the relative front of the throne room and stepped onto one of the floating platforms. "**And to answer your question, I picked the portal that is two over from the one you pointed out. That should give me a nice buffer between me and him.**"

As the platform floated to the walls of the Netherworld, which seemed to take a lot longer than it usually did for some reason, thoughts started running through his head as to what he might find on the other side, what the new world would be like. Would there even be other people, or would he, say, be forced to contend with giant talking fish? He shuddered at the thought, briefly considering the option of just hopping from one portal to the next until he found one that agreed with him at first impression, but that approach stank of cowardice. He'd never hear the end of it from Gnarl if he cherry-picked his world choices. He'd take them as he found them, with whatever complications they might present. Optimism wasn't his strong suit, but a heaping amount of that with regards to this issue might do wonders for his mood.

He stepped off the floating rock and into the crevice, dealing with an onset of trepidation. He noted that he didn't immediately get whisked off to somewhere else, "**Just to clarify, this is going to work, right?**"

Soul Calibur answered, for once not laughing. "_It will, he tested these gateways extensively, with me in tow. You'll experience a feeling of vertigo, or, at least I did._"

He didn't bother to ask how a sword could feel vertigo, mostly because he just didn't care about the answer. Stepping into the black of the cavern consumed his attention. Theoretically, he would be able to hop back and forth through this Gate as often as he liked, as it would open a Netherworld Gate on the other end. His concerns lay with where the Gate would actually open, like on the bottom of the sea, or in the heart of a volcano. He had never learned to swim, and with the armor he was wearing it was a moot point anyway. As for the volcano, he'd be dead before he realized it, regardless of what he was wearing.

He took six steps forward into the inky darkness of the cavern, and still he felt nothing. "**Are you sure that this thing works? Because in my experience portals are supposed to work the instant you step into them.**"

Soul Calibur snapped back at him. "_Your experience is limited. Now stop complaining and keep walking, give it a second to work._"

In spite of himself, he did as asked. He could though, feel the magic of the place around him, old magic, old beyond comprehension or calculation. Perhaps old enough have roots back at the very creation of reality. What bothered him was that there was a distinct lack of flavor to the sorcery, the taste that was a sort of calling card to the mage that worked the magic. If a spell was a bridge, the signature was the guardrails that allowed one to follow the structure. Without it, he risked losing his mind by focusing too strongly on anything magical at the moment. He felt a pulling sensation, like there was a fishing hook latched on to the bottom of his sternum. The feeling of vertigo he had been told to expect hit, and the feeling of stone beneath his boots vanished.

Netherworld Gate: Unknown land

Acheron was thrown out of the Gate with far more force than ever before, enough that he flipped over once in the air before hitting the ground. He had the further misfortune of landing face first in a patch of water. Upon pushing himself back up, and spitting the sand out of his mouth, he found that he was kneeling in the clearest patch of saltwater he had ever seen. That patch stretched out into the distance in an endless cerulean sheet that remained unbroken all the way to the horizon. He was no stranger to seafaring, as he had sailed all the way from Nordberg to Evernight, but this was something else. He had to look left and right first, to confirm that he was actually on a piece of land instead of a tiny island. To his left, there stood a single tree that seemed to be growing into the Netherworld Gate. Beyond that, nothing but pure white sand as far as his eyes could see.

Considering how aware she had been up until now, he felt compelled to ask. "**Are you seeing this?**"

The response was a little bit snide. "_Vaguely. I'd see a lot more if your shoulder wasn't in the way._"

He automatically pulled the sword off of his back with a murmured apology, until he realized what he had just done. "**Wait, what the hell just happened? You did not just influence me into giving you a better view.**"

He brought Soul Calibur's eye up to be level with his own. "_Ah, let's theoretically say the answer was yes, how angry would you be if that was the case?_"

A blank glare was his only response, before letting go of the weapon and letting her fall into the surf. Somehow, she landed just so that her eye was barely above the waterline. His internal argument on the subject was divided, but nowhere near a pitched struggle. She was powerful, no question, but he felt that maybe it wasn't worth the risk if she could influence his behavior, no matter how slightly.

He had taken only a few steps away from Soul Calibur and the Netherworld Gate when the slightly panicked and heavily impassioned plea hit his brain. "_Wait wait wait wait, please don't just leave me here! I'm sorry, really I am…!_"

He made it three more steps before the begging got to him and a groan of exasperation escaped. "**Ugh, fine, but you get one last chance. Any more problems and I drop you without looking back.**"

As he retrieved her Soul Calibur sounded almost giddy. "_You might change your tune after you get the chance to test me against an enemy, and I know the perfect place to start. There is a town just over that little sand dune._" Before he could ask how she knew the answer came. "_I can sense their life forces._"

He slung the crystal blade back over his shoulder, setting off in the direction she had indicated, directly opposite the way he had been walking. Before he strayed too far from the Gate though, he summoned a small hoard of browns and blues for the shock factor. He also had to assume that the town ahead was going to be a port of some kind, what with the huge body of water right on hand. Still, he could be wrong. The Glorious Empire had hardly utilized the ocean next to their Evernight resort at all, leaving the old moorings to rot away in the tropical weather. He smiled to himself at the memory of his first arrival at Evernight, and the subsequent responsibility for which largely rested on his broad shoulders. He couldn't be held completely accountable though, after all the Empire had been parading Juno around the cliffs like the trophy she had been. He felt a mild pang of regret, and realized that he might've grown a bit more attached to the woman than he had at first thought. Whether that regret was for the loss of her extremely kinky personality, or the many completely unintentional times she had made him laugh was open for debate. He suspected the latter, and his mind immediately recalled the time when Fay had just arrived in the Netherworld.

The dark fairy had floated down from the Private Quarters, downing Kelda first before moving on to Juno. "… And this Empire whore, all body but nothing upstairs to speak of." To which Juno had indignantly replied; "Hey, my hair, is perfectly fine."

He shook his head, bottling up the laugh that threatened to burst forth and shedding a few tears from the effort. "**Ah Juno, any attempt at a clever insult sailed right over that pretty head of yours. I think the only thing to ever actually offend you was Kelda's nickname for you, 'Empire Bitch.' Yes, you took no offence at all over being called a whore, but 'bitch' got you all hot and bothered.**" He thought for a moment before adding quietly, "**Particularly the hot part. I mean, who really thinks of using chocolate fondue for that purpose?**"

As he reached the top of the dune Soul Calibur reacted to his last statement. "_Use fondue for what purpose?_"

He paused only briefly to shoot a glance at the glittering eye looking over his shoulder. "**Maybe I'll explain it to you at a later date. For now, just focus on being quiet and not distracting me.**"

As he descended the side of the sand dune into town he deduced that it must either have been early morning or the afternoon, because there wasn't anyone on the streets. However, there was quite the commotion coming from one building on the main street, one with a sign hanging from a rod over the door that read, 'The Drunken Privateer.' Clearly, this was some kind of bar that either normally had rowdy patrons, or was in the middle of a barroom brawl. The rest of the town seemed fairly plain, row upon rough row of roughshod shanty-houses separated by a sandy line between them. There was the occasional building with a more permanent look, which he could assume was a place of business. Further behind them rose the masts of large wooden ships, all of them flying a different flag. So clearly this was an independent port, that or the local government just didn't care. If it was the latter, then there were likely pickpockets around, and he absentmindedly patted the sack of gold coins he kept on his waist for spur of the moment purchases to assure that it was still there.

On a whim, he started to approach the bar after directing his minions to hide in the dimly lit alley right beside the building. The doors opened as he drew closer, discharging a woman with a huge head of black hair barely contained beneath a still larger hat. Even more enticing, was the fact that that only a white bra left anything about her upper half to the imagination. Perfectly in keeping with who he was, he couldn't help but leer away as she passed, brushing by with a flirty smile. He took two more steps, and realized that his belt suddenly felt a lot lighter. A quick glance told him what he already knew, that lady had robbed him, immediately after he had cautioned himself against it. He turned, coldly glaring at the woman's retreating back, and she turned as well like she felt his gaze. There was a brief moment of stillness, disturbed only by the noise still pouring forth from the bar, before the woman took off, flaunting his coin purse the whole way. He started running as well, forgetting entirely about his minions, thinking only about immediate revenge.

He shouted as he started to close the gap, noting that she was making for the harbor. "**Hey, stop running and I'll let you live!**"

The woman ignored his feigned offer and kept running, although he could have expected nothing less. That line was as old as time when it came to Evil dictators, and it was never meant with sincerity when spoken. Still, he could say that he had tried. He was almost within range so he could snatch at thief's hair anyway, so the point was rather moot.

He took three more running steps and snagged the woman's trailing left arm, shouting triumphantly whilst he did so; "**Got you!**"

In direct spite of his claim the woman kept running, and her arm simply slid out of his formidable grasp like a snake through wet grass. He froze in astonishment; his was a hand that could crush steel with barely a thought, and now he lost his grip like a child having a favorite toy taken away. He rubbed the fingers together on his left hand, the hand he had seized his quarry with, and noted that they were now slick. Perhaps then, it wasn't he who was a fault. The momentary funk was broken by the sound of the thief calling out for a ship to cast off. The imminent humiliation was enough to push him towards the harbor at twice the speed, but that was still only enough for him to arrive at the docks just as a ship was pulling out. To further enflame the insult, he could see the woman standing on the command deck of the ship. She waved at him, and then flashed him the middle finger.

While he momentarily stewed in his fury, Soul Calibur chuckled. "_Not exactly the best note to start off a new adventure, is it?_"

A light went off in his head, and the idea that came with it formed into a devilish smirk as he pulled the crystal sword off of his back. "**Oh, don't count me out of it just yet. I still have one trick left.**"

The sword's voice was filled with undeniable panic. "_Wait, you aren't planning on throwing me at them, are you?_"

Though it was a valid question, he let out a snort as he stabbed the weapon down into the boards of the jetty. "**No, I could hit them, but I wouldn't sink them. I have something with a lot more boom in mind.**" He brought his hands up, cupping them as if he were holding a small orb between them. "**Remember how I said I was better at magic than the Old Man? Well, this is me proving that point.**"

With a bit of concentration he began to cast the spell, a variation on the Dark Halo that shot all of the force forward in one concentrated burst instead of the shockwave an unskilled Overlord would use it for. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that a bolt of lightning was connecting Soul Calibur to the growing orb in his hands, but he could sense that she was adding power and not taking it away, so he let it be. Before the offending ship could leave the harbor he fired, an incandescent blue orb about as big as he was that shot straight and true to connect with the vessel just above the waterline. The blue, magical explosion was mixed with red and yellow flames, telling him that he had gotten lucky and ignited barrels of gunpowder as well. When the smoke cleared, there was little left, just a few small pieces of driftwood to mark the watery grave.

Soul Calibur commented, "_You know, you've still lost your bag of coins. So what did that impressive display really accomplish?_"

He waved off the concern. "**Not at all, I'll just get the blue minions to go down there and pry the bag from that woman's cold, dead fingers. That and whatever other loot they had aboard.**"

She responded from her position in the wooden jetty. "_And in the meantime? You can't actually expect this whole fiasco to have gone unnoticed._"

He half turned to see the town come to life behind him, noting the bleary eyed expressions on the majority of the faces. "**I'm sure something will turn up. If not then I can just supervise the salvage until someone gets curious enough to approach. People usually can't help themselves when something as dramatic and exciting as myself shows up.**"

His comment prompted another bought of musical chuckling from Soul Calibur. "_Oh my, and I though your father was the only one with an ego large enough to encompass an entire world. Mind you, he kept a tight leash on it that only slipped in the middle of combat._"

He shot a light glare at the blade. "**One, I really don't like being continually compared to the Old Man. Two, my ego is perfectly kept in check. I'm just stating a fact that I have extreme animal magnetism.**"

As if to prove him right, a rhythmic clacking on the wooden jetty drew his attention to a swarthy man with a full grey beard approaching down one of the side jetties. A long gray coat was draped around their shoulders, and overall there was just a lot of gray to them. The odd thing was that the man didn't look all that old, maybe late thirties at most. The clunk was caused by a peg leg that seemed one good kick away from breaking, but miraculously didn't across the entire jetty.

The other man paused as his crowd of minions hustled by before looking out at the spreading debris field. "A deal gone bad?"

He thought up a quick lie and ran with it. "**You could say that, I was trying to hire the ship. Been thinking of going pirate and wanted to get a taste of it.**"

A glint appeared in the man's eyes, one he was quite familiar with, the glint of greed. "Aye? And did it have to be that ship, and that specific captain?"

He kept up the pretense, silently intrigued in spite of himself. "**Are you making an offer? I have to assume that you have a ship to back it up with.**"

The man gestured back towards the town with the thumb on his right hand. "I know this great little bar just inside the port over there. What say we head on over there, grab a pint or two of rum, and discuss this like a pair of reasonable businessmen?"

He paused to consider for a moment, reminding himself of the fact that it was seemingly impossible for him to get drunk. It had something to do with him being mostly a magical being, but he really didn't care about the why. On the current situation, if this man got a bit tipsy he could learn quite a bit about where he was and what else there he could find, and as for hiring a ship, why the hell not? It wasn't as though he could fit the ship he had used through a Netherworld portal, and it would certainly be much more efficient for him to have a professional crew over the mess his minions would make of any ship he hijacked.

After a long moment of deliberation he nodded once. "**Why not, it isn't like I have many other open options. Lead the way.**" He turned to Soul Calibur, whom he had left impaled into the jetty. "**If anyone gets too close to the loot the blues pull out of the water, shock them, badly.**"

The response he received was a giggle that reminded him far too much of Dark Fay, but he turned his back on the sword and followed the captain back into the small port.

Grand Line: The Drunken Privateer

Acheron sat in the corner of the rowdy, dimly lit pirate den, slowly nursing his second mug of rum while his "acquaintance," whom was working on their sixth mug and had identified themselves as Captain Clayton Steel, prattled on about various things that were neither interesting or relevant. Occasionally though the drunken captain would spit, or rather vomit, up a piece of info like where he was, how far they were from anything really important, and who the important people were. Of course, all of that only mattered if he knew how to navigate this world on his own, and as it seemed to be largely ocean that would be a lengthy process until he set up some Netherworld gates on the other landmasses. He found himself wondering how that would work, when he wasn't busy leering at one waitress or the other. In most circumstances that would be rude, but this was a pirate bar, being leered at was practically in their job description, and he was refraining from pawing at them as they passed by. Besides, he had no idea where they'd been, and considering how freely the rum was flowing it was likely that they slept with more than half of the patrons.

Clayton was on the tail end of another rambling tale, "… And you should've seen the look on that governor's face when we busted into his private suite in the middle of his birthday!"

He calmly drained the rest of his rum, and rapped the pirate over the head once. "**As amusing as all of this is, I believe we were here to discuss a business opportunity.**"

The pirate flashed him a drunken grin, swaying slightly in his seat. "We were, but I don't think you've made an offer yet."

He sighed and shook his head slowly, cursing the effects of the rum while silently praising the taste. He had actually made a proposition for the fourth time five minutes ago, but the fifth was inevitable. "**Here is my offer, I give you whatever loot was pulled up from that ship I destroyed, and I have your ship until I no longer need it. It's a little bit of a gamble for the both of us, because I know neither how much gold was brought up, nor the condition of your ship. And you don't know how much you'll be paid, or how long I'll need you for. So for the fifth time, do we have an accord?**"

Clayton finally slumped forward, holding out a shaky hand in the process. "Aye, boss, that we do!"

He snatched the hand and shook up and down once, trying to keep the stink transferred to him at a minimum. "**Perfect, now shouldn't we get out of here and back to the docks so we can get underway?**"

The drunk pirate staggered to his feet, snatching a bottle of rum off of the bar along the way. "As you say boss, maybe just one more round-"

Another pirate, a much bigger one in both height and girth, took offence to the snatched bottle. "Oy, that's my drink, you bilge rat!"

He seized the drunk captain and started to drag the man away from an imminent brawl. "**My friend here is very sorry for disturbing you, now we were just leaving.**"

The big pirate was having none of it, clearly already quite drunk. "That isn't how it works here landlubber. I ought to-"

Whatever obscenities the large pirate had been about to spew were cut off as Clayton swung the stolen rum bottle as a cudgel, smashing the thing to pieces against the big one's face. Even before the first piece of glass hit the floor all of hell was unleashed and someone else had punched him in the jaw, regardless of how ineffective it was due to his armor. He took his best guess and lashed out, catching a different person on the nose. His victim flew backwards, spreading the fires of conflict further still. Had he had time to think, he would have realized that he just ignited a full-fledged bar room brawl. At the moment, all he was concerned with was getting the hell out of there with both his pride and new business partner intact, the latter of which seemed bent on punching every face within reach, and enraging the crowd further.

When he finally dragged Clayton out the front there was a collective cry from within of, "They're escaping!"

He groaned, wondering if his ill fortune would ever end, and slung Clayton's arm over his shoulder. "**Your pay is getting docked for this crap, I hope that gets through that drunken skull of yours!**"

Immediately, like flipping a switch, Clayton was suddenly completely sober. "Like hell you are! This way you cheap son of a snake."

Reversing the situation, Clayton threw off the assisting shoulder and seized his wrist, now dragging him at breakneck speed towards the harbor. Behind them, the drunken crowd from the bar was hot on their heels. In light of that, he made a mental note to never accompany Clayton to any bar again, ever. Further, since the pirate was now working for him, he could just forbid the captain from drinking at expense of pay.

The pirate dragged him to where his minions had been ordered to pile the loot, before spouting off a rather loud objection. "Hey, what gives? Where's my pay?"

He shook off the Captain's grip and walked over to collect Soul Calibur, laughing aloud the whole time. "**I must remind you Clayton, you agreed to work for me for whatever got dragged up from that destroyed ship. And from what it looks like, you get this handful of silver and this lacy, ladies brassier.**" He shrugged, hiding the wicked grin on his face within his helmet. "**Who knows, perform well enough and I might grant you a bonus.**"

Clayton glared at him for a moment, and then shot a look back at the mob of other pirates. "Asshole, you are really lucky that I'm an honorable pirate and a deal is a deal."

The pirate took off, with him right behind. Soul Calibur commented, giggling away. "_Well, maybe that'll teach him to make business deals while he's drunk._"

He shot back, "**The guy's a pirate, they drink. It'll take a lot more than this to get that guy to go dry.**" There was a moment of silence, and it was clear that she was expecting something else. "**What, me? You think I should toss the bottle too? I can't get drunk, I've tried. I downed a jug of wine bigger than you over the course of an hour to celebrate the sacking of Empire City. I wasn't even, what's the word, buzzed. The most I got out of the evening was the unexpected surprise of watching Juno get herself, and Dark Fay intoxicated. Before then I had never seen a fairy drunk, and it was outrageously funny. She usually has this fuzzy aura about her, and it was sputtering and arcing at the most inopportune moments…**" He trailed off because it was inside a week from that date when Fay had gone nuts and killed Kelda and Juno.

Before the sword could respond there was a shout from up ahead. When he looked, Clayton was waving him over to a large ship that looked to have scaled-metal armor. This unquestionably brought a smile from him, because he was winning so hard on the deal Clayton might as well have just handed him a diamond. The rigging looked sound, the sails weren't full of holes, and the way the crew scurried about told him that they knew what they were doing.

He set his right boot on the ramp leading up to the deck. "**Are** **they ready to shove off in a hurry?**"

The Captain sent him an Evil glare, and a very good one, before answering. "Aye, that we are, boss. Welcome to the Grim Angel, and hope that we get a nice big score while you're on deck." The pirate smiled, "After all, you never said what happens to the loot we get off any other ship now, did you?"

He silently cursed, waved his crowd of minions forward, watching the crowd fade away as the Grim Angel pulled out.


	3. Hay Fever

Chapter 3: Hay Fever

Open Ocean: Grim Angel

Acheron stood at the bow of the Grim Angel, the wind in his face, and the spray of the sea cooling his brow. To his critical eye, this ship was one of the finest he had ever seen. It was a three-mast frigate that packed enough firepower to raze a town, and was well enough armored to withstand an absolutely withering volley of cannon. The Elven ship he had commandeered to sail to Evernight would be torn to pieces within seconds of entering range. He smiled to himself, of the mind that his fortunes were changing after an initial rough patch. He had a strong ship, an experienced if skittish crew, and the whole ocean was laid out before him.

He leaned on the railing, staring at the sunrise off to the east. "**You know, I really almost forgot how much I enjoyed this. A person can get lost out here, maybe on occasion that's a good thing.**" His eyes flicked back towards the glowing crystal blade on his shoulder. "**Don't you start with me. If I wanted someone to make witty remarks about my every move or word I would get myself a parrot.**"

Despite his words, Soul Calibur spoke anyway. "_But I'm much more fun to talk to than a parrot, and I find it curious that you find that you put so much thought into traveling on the ocean. I've never cared to look when I've been carried around before on a ship. I can't say I'm impressed, not nearly so much as you seem to be anyways. Care to explain to me your fascination with this big puddle?_"

He sighed and shook his head. "**Look, it's not a puddle it's far too huge to be called that. As for why, well…**" He took a moment to choose his words. "**I can run flat out across land for a ridiculously long time before I feel even short of breath. An ocean, that's always going to be a barrier unless you can fly. And…**" He groaned, running out of words. "**Ok, I can't exactly explain why I like the ocean, I just do. Read into that however much you like.**"

A soft thud on the deck behind him preceded a spat out question. "By the beard of the bloody mer king, who the hell are you gabbing with?"

His eyes darted between the tall, lean, almost gangly pirate and Soul Calibur's glittering eye, before directing his words to her. "**Heh, you want to explain this to him or should I?**" It occurred to him that he had just been offered the opportunity to scare the piss out of the poor man by pretending to be stark raving mad, the type that heard voices that weren't there. He focused on the pirate's face and smiled. "**You know what, I'm just going to let her tell you all about it, that way I seem like less of a nutcase.**"

The pirate looked taken aback, and swept an incredulous glance left and right. "Ah, you really aren't helping the crazy image right now. I know for a fact that we have no women aboard. If we did, the captain just wouldn't stop crowing about it. So, yeah."

Soul Calibur reacted immediately, out loud. "_Oh I beg to differ, and you are further mistaken by thinking I would let that smelly Captain lay so much as a finger on me._"

The boy's eyes grew so wide it was a wonder that they stayed in his head. It was clear that he was trying to say something, but whatever words were crossing his mind were getting butchered somewhere between his brain and the mouth. As such, only incomprehensible gibberish was heard.

Soul Calibur cut the stream of nonsense, trying to direct the boy's gaze towards her. "_Left, no my left. Down, not that far. No, the other way…_" After an extended moment of fumbling she blew up. "_Ugh, I'm peeking over his shoulder you insufferable moron!_"

The young man looked even more mortified, if that was even possible. "A, a sword? I'm hearing a sword talking to me?" The man grabbed his head with both hands, screaming as he ran away towards the aft end of the ship.

He chuckled, before turning back towards the ocean. "**Well that was fun. Hopefully that guy will figure out that neither he nor the two of us are as crazy as we seem. That would be preferable, because I know for a fact that this crew doesn't have too many spare hands to go around. But wouldn't that be a sight to see, the good old Captain scampering through the rigging like one of the other deck hands?**"

The subject of the conversation, the Captain, sidled up and nonchalantly leaned on the railing next to him. "Never going to happen. I'm not nearly spry enough to climb around like a damnable monkey. But enough about me, I have a piece of business I'd like to discuss." A frown twisted Clayton's mouth. "That is of course, if you are quite finished terrorizing my people? That boy probably won't rest easy for a week."

He was completely incapable of keeping a grin off of his face. "**Would it help my case at all if I said the man was all but asking to be messed with? He questioned my sanity, on the grounds of me talking to my sword, so I called his hand and forced him to examine his own mind.**" He tapped the black handle sticking up over his shoulder. "**She spoke quite well, right down to calling the guy an insufferable moron.**"

Clayton gave him an odd look, but didn't raise a fuss over it. "Right, sounds perfectly fine. Anyway, on to the piece of business." The pirate offered him a collapsed spyglass. "Take a look out ahead of us, fifteen degrees to the starboard. Coming up on a nice, fat looking sloop, if you feel like taking on the Thousand Sunny and her crew."

He put the spyglass up to his left eye, only to have his vision assaulted by the gaudiest, most colorful ship design he had ever encountered. He had a side-long view so he could take in the whole picture, from the sun embossed lion over the crossbones at the bow, to what looked like a miniature hut mounted high on the aft end. The cannon ports were arrayed along a half-circle about mid-ship, instead of sensibly in a line like on the Grim Angel. In between the two masts there was, unbelievably, what looked like trees growing on the deck. It looked like something an artist vomited onto a canvas, and had just stuck with in the interest of time.

He lowered the spyglass and shrugged. "**Why the hell not, let's do it.**"

An eruption of voices behind him all cried out the same line; "Are you fucking crazy?"

He sighed and turned to face what looked like the whole crew, arrayed in a large semi-circle around him and Captain Clayton, and sighed. "**No, but I might suddenly turn it if I keep getting asked that same stupid question.**" He brought his hands up and collapsed the spyglass. "**What's the big problem, are you scared of the nutcase that built that fashion abomination?**"

One of the crew, he could not tell which, blurted out a response. "That ship holds two of the eleven supernovas; no way in hell can we beat them!"

Captain Clayton stepped up to the fore, hands raised as if ministering to children. "Now now lads, need I remind you that we are under contract here. If our boss wants to take on near suicidal odds we are honor bound to help him do it." The pirate twined a finger through his beard, grinning from ear to ear. "Besides boys, you got me on your side, that's got to count for something."

As he finished speaking Clayton's skin took on a curious glint in the sunlight, eventually turning fully grey to match the rest of his apparel. The deck groaned as if in protest, and he could have sworn that he saw the planks bend slightly.

The Captain smashed one fist against his chest, producing a loud, metallic clang. "Remember boys, I'm the Heavy Metal Pirate, and nothing either of those whelps over there can muster can hurt me!"

He quickly followed the declaration with one of his own. "**Besides, it's not like I want to just rush and attack. I have a plan, one that should keep any real fighting to a minimum, at least for you guys.**"

Clayton held his arms wide, skin fading back to a normal human complexion, with a forced smile on his face. "And there you have it. So get back to work while I discuss the fine details of this plan that keeps your sorry asses alive." The Captain turned to him the instant the crew was out of earshot, forced smile still in place. "I hope this plan of yours is a fucking good one, otherwise this is going to be the shortest business contract I've ever signed on for."

He held a hand up, indicating patience. "**Hold on, two questions before I go into the details.**" He jabbed a finger in the vague direction of the Thousand Sunny. "**First, and I suppose least important, who or what are the eleven supernovas? Second, and much more pressing, how did you turn yourself into living metal?**"

Clayton just stared at him for a long moment, one eyebrow cocked impassively. "You know, you're really out the loop here. Everyone and their cousin knows who the eleven supernovas are."

Soul Calibur broke in, again voicing her thoughts out loud. "_I think you're going to have to get used to it. This man was born out of the loop._" He calmly, yet forcefully, reached his hand up and flicked the glowing orb of the sword, to which she immediately objected. "_OW, that's my eye! Why would you do that to me…_" She kept rambling but he ignored the noise.

The Captain's disbelieving stare never wavered, but his eyes occasionally darted uneasily between his face and over his shoulder, presumably to look at Soul Calibur. "Ah, ok, suit yourself." The pirate began; "The eleven supernovas are, as it sounds, the eleven rookie pirates that have already accumulated a bounty of over one hundred million. The guy the crew is scared of, Monkey D. Luffy, is number two on that list and has a bounty of triple the minimum."

He leaned on the railing, still ignoring his sword's inane chatter. "**If the kid's bounty is so high, what's yours? Probably higher, right?**"

Clayton's concentration seemed to finally move away from Soul Calibur and onto the conversation. "Ha, I almost wish that were true. That kind of infamy is what any pirate could dream of. But no, my bounty is a mere one hundred and fifty million. I'm not on that list because I'm an old dog in this line of work, relatively speaking of course. That, and I usually don't directly tangle with the World Government, so they leave me be for the most part." The pirate shot him a glance; "You do know who they are, right?"

Not having the slightest idea, he took a wild guess. "**Sure I do, they're this big bunch of self absorbed assholes that think they're better than everyone else and hate pirates.**"

Clayton nodded once, grimly satisfied with the answer. "Aye, that about sums it up. Then of course there are the Marines that scour the seas for us lone pirate ships. I tend to save most of our cannon for dealing with the nosy bastards."

He changed the topic, silently glad that Soul Calibur had finally shut up. "**Ok, enough history and junk. How did you make yourself living metal, bear with me here, I'm really interested.**"

The Captain scowled. "It's another thing you should know, but I'll humor you. It's a Devil Fruit, logia-class. As you saw, I can become a real heavy metal pirate, and on occasion I can manipulate other metal." Clayton shot a glance back towards the crew. "And uh, well you ought to know seeing as you bought my services, I say 'on occasion' because about ninety percent of the time I try to do anything but move about while using my Devil Fruit I fall fast asleep for no reason whatsoever."

He struggled to not laugh, and he mostly succeeded. "**I, heh, can see how that would be a pain in the ass. So you , what, just rush into the fray and try to draw all the attention while your boys hack away at the enemy's back?**"

Clayton nodded his head, a thoughtful smirk plastered on his face. "Aye, I think that's how it usually works. Caught the last six or seven ships like that, and the ten or twenty before that."

He felt a smile twist his lips in kind. "**You don't exactly have a huge repertoire of plans here. What if that first idea doesn't work?**"

The pirate shrugged helplessly. "If it isn't broke I see no real reason to fix anything. You know firsthand how good I am at pissing off a big crowd of people. Of course then I was near-blackout drunk, but you get the idea."

He shook his head, easily recalling the exasperation he had felt only a week or so ago. "**Yeah, if you're that good at pissing people off when drunk I can only imagine how good you are at it when you can plan it out.**"

Clayton chuckled momentarily, and then got serious again. "Aye, but if it's all the same to you, I'd rather hear about your brilliant plan to take on the Straw Hat Pirates. Why, because my plan just is not going to help, end of bloody story."

He shot a short glance towards the extreme bow of the ship, where his minions had essentially been quarantined. "**Well, what I want you to do is…**"

Grim Angel: Hours later

Acheron stared off into the gloom of the late evening, keeping track of his minions as the Blues ferried their brown counterparts across the water towards the sleeping Thousand Sunny. He had ordered the crew to tail the other ship at great distance, closing only after the darkness made the grey Grim Angel almost vanish into the night. Even if the crew of the Thousand Sunny posted a guard, which was a sensible thing to do, one person would easily be silently subdued by the Browns, and since the Browns couldn't swim period the Blue minions would be the transportation. From what he had heard, there actually weren't that many people on the Thousand Sunny, so fifteen Browns could easily subdue anyone aboard. After all, he'd seen stronger things than people go down under a flailing pile of swinging clubs. Add to that the undeniable panic most people felt when a small army of little monsters rushed at them and the Thousand Sunny should go down almost without a fight.

As soon as he saw the first fading black dot touch the side of the enemy ship he gave a short wave ahead, adding a gentle whisper. "**All ahead, quietly now boys and they'll never know what hit them.**"

Just as they were pulling alongside to drop the boarding ramp the first scream ripped through the night, prompting Clayton to bellow out the order that was already being enacted. "Give em no quarter lads, for none will be given to you!"

He charged ahead of the pirate crew, counting on his natural edge in darkness and the sparse torchlight to guide his feet. Upon hitting the deck of the victimized vessel he realized that his earlier assumption was true, there was a full blown lawn in the middle of the ship, trees and all. A few hammocks were hung between said trees, none of which were occupied at the current time. Another scream caught his attention fast enough to bring his eyes to bear on a figure clambering down from what could be called the crow's nest, and that figure was indeed a curious sight. What he saw, or at least thought he saw, was a fully-dressed skeleton swinging down through the rigging that was over eight feet tall, with a huge head of hair. He was familiar with the undead, and not just because of his on again off again relationship with Ghost Fay, but so far as he knew the undead couldn't grow hair. Pursuing this figure were two of his minions, who made up for with exuberance what they both lacked in grace in the chase.

When the skeleton hit the deck he was perfectly positioned to strike, and strike he did. He lashed out with his free hand and punched the figure right in the back of their hairy skull, snapping off a snide one-liner as the head rolled away across the deck; "**Put yourself together man!**"

A door off to his left crashed open, spitting out a giant of a man that seemed to have boulders instead of shoulders, and cannons instead of hands. Seven of his minions were tangled up in this brawl, five Browns that were whaling on the man with everything they had, and two Blues that instantly revived one of the aforementioned minions when they were inevitably thrown to the deck with sickening force. In the dim light he couldn't be sure, but he guessed that the man had blue hair, odd enough on its own.

A brilliant idea hit him and he called his business partner over to enact it. "**Clayton, over here, now!**" When the pirate was in arms reach he snatched the man's forearm before he could say anything, spouting another one-liner as he threw the Captain at the giant. "**Show that guy who the real 'heavy metal pirate' is!**"

The two pirates collided, one of them in mid-air, with a resounding clang. Clayton ricocheted off skywards, catching a rope from the rigging on the way that stopped the flight that would have sent the metal Captain on one last voyage to the depths of the ocean. The rope snapped while Clayton was on the way back down, dropping the metal man on another member of the Straw Hat Pirates, who he didn't know, but the crunch that he heard was loud enough to make him wince out of sympathy. As for the first target, the giant was down, still getting beaten by the brown minions.

Another door burst open, this one on his right, and flung the bodies of three of the brown minions at his feet. These bodies were far beyond what a blue minion could resurrect, and he watched the pale, wavering minion souls float away before turning towards the open door. Standing in the doorframe, two blades drawn and a third sheathed, was a scarred man with green hair that was currently affixing him with the look one gave to a mortal enemy.

One of the pirates on his side of the melee cried out in terror. "It's Roronoa Zoro, run for your lives!"

The man they dubbed as "Zoro" glanced only briefly towards the voice before staring back at him. "You should really listen to your friends. I'm not called the second most dangerous swordsman in the world for no reason."

He felt himself smirking, bravado inflating in response to the challenge. "**Only the second most dangerous? Well, that should be perfectly obvious. I mean, you're looking at number one right now.**"

Zoro's glare tightened, "That's not funny. You are a nobody, an outsider, and obviously someone with a huge ego to back up their delusion."

He played along momentarily, hamming up the act for the benefit of any onlookers. "**Oh, well you caught me red-handed with that one. I'm just a kid trying to fit boots that are way too big for me.**" He slowly brought Soul Calibur down into a non-threatening posture. "**I suppose I should just take your advice and run away with all my little insignificant friends.**" He half-turned to walk away and stopped. "**Or, well, I suppose I could do…**" His free hand whipped back towards Zoro and unleashed the Evil Presence spell; "**...This!**"

Zoro convulsed in agony from the spell, both swords falling from the swordsman's grasp as he clutched at his head, trying to ward off the magic with his bare hands. It was really a laughable effort, but one plenty of people had gone through before. He watched carefully, waiting for the moment Zoro's knees hit the deck so he could let go of the spell while still retaining control. It felt like about ten to twenty seconds to him, but he had occasionally heard that it felt at least thirty times longer to his victims.

The swordsman's knee hit the deck and he shut off the spell instantly, waiting a few good seconds to confirm that Zoro wasn't able to rebel. He smiled, and lowered his hand back to his side. "**Good boy, now go beat up your friends, but don't kill them.**" With a light pat on the shoulder he brushed by Zoro and climbed the steps leading towards the helm before spinning about and shouting over the crowd. "**Is there anyone else here whose ass I need to kick personally? No? Thank you all you've been wonderful I'll be here all week.**"

Soul Calibur spoke in his head while he picked his way back down the stairs, stepping over the bodies, unconscious or otherwise, that cluttered it. "_You are completely delusional; you do know that I hope?_"

He vaulted over the red railing of the low stairs at the bottom, moving towards the door next to the one Zoro had appeared from. "**Sticks and stones dear, sticks and stones. And the day I let those bother me is the day I commit regicide, on myself.**"

He didn't bother with subtlety, and just lifted his right foot before slamming his heel against the latch. The wooden crunch was barely audible over the cacophony that still reigned over the ship, but it was dying down. He supposed that there might be one or two people that were lying in wait somewhere on the Thousand Sunny, but he could handle the odd ambush. Besides, the interior of the ship was surprisingly well lit considering the hour. Also considering the size of the metal-armed giant outside there was more than enough headroom for him, a nice change of pace. He reached the end of the hall and paused, contemplating which door out of two to enter first. Neither had anything to ostentatiously recommend them to him, so he just picked the one on the left and bashed the door down.

He waltzed in, brandishing Soul Calibur before him with more than necessary showmanship. "**Hello? Is there anyone home?**" He stood completely still, holding his breath so as to hear any wayward sounds. After about sixty seconds of waiting he let out the breath he was holding, lowering his sword at the same time. "**Well, now that that is taken care of. Let's have ourselves a good look around the premises.**"

His attention turned towards the room's furnishings, and once he started looking he was immediately drawn to the locked chest in the back. There was a golden lock on the latch, but he was not about to believe that someone would be so vain to make a lock out of gold, the metal just wasn't suited for it. And that wasn't any advanced metallurgical knowledge, it was just common sense.

He snapped his fingers and turned to the rest of the room. "**Key, key, key, where would a pirate hide a key to their private stash?**"

He looked towards a high shelf on the left side of the room, and was distracted by the presence of a large glass jar filled with purple liquid. With a short kick he shoved the chest over and used it as a step to reach more easily. It was simple curiosity, but he was going to run with it. It wasn't exactly like he was on the clock, especially with the ship under his control. So that gave him the leeway to indulge idle curiosity.

He picked the jar up with both hands, finding it surprisingly light considering the size. "**What exactly is so important about a jar of pinkish-purple water?**"

Soul Calibur responded as if he had asked her the question. "_You assume that there is an important reason someone held onto it. It could simply be someone's favorite novelty drink._"

He blinked once, twice, and tossed the jar over his shoulder through a portal to his treasure chamber, which also happened to be his bedroom. Since he didn't hear a crashing sound, he would assume that the jar landed intact, leaving him to deal with it later. Also, if whatever in the jar was somehow hazardous he could get one of the minions to open it so he wouldn't get caught in any theoretical backlash.

Soul Calibur commented on his actions as he checked the rest of the shelf, and found nothing. "_Back to treasure hunting then? Why don't you just break the lock off?_"

He froze as he reached for the top drawer of a dresser situated at the foot of the bed. "**Why? Well, it's unsporting, that's why. Takes the fun out of the whole concept of raiding, at least it does for me.**"

Again, his sword responded with that ethereal, falling glass laugh. "_Really? You went and found a key for every chest of gold you ran across on your big adventure to conquer the Glorious Empire? You have bigger issues than I thought._"

His flippant, and fully truthful, retort was instantaneous. "**Don't be absurd, ninety-nine percent of them were unlocked.**"

Soul Calibur was silent for a full five seconds, allowing him to hear a suspicious noise from the door. After those five seconds though, she had another derisive comment to make. "_Well, and I thought you had problems with common sense._"

He attempted to mentally shush the talking weapon, and held still to hear the approaching intruder. When the soft footsteps stopped right outside the door he waited for only half a second before drawing Soul Calibur and taking one grand leap towards the noise.

The "intruder," a nervous member of Clayton's crew, took one step into the room and saw him flying towards them, crystal sword fixing to kill, and panicked. "Oh my god NO!" The pirate raised a device that looked like a miniature dwarven cannon, pointed it at him, and there was a clicking sound.

There was a small explosion of fire and sound in front of his face as he pulled back to avoid killing one of the people on his side. Something hit the side of his helmet, just above his right eye, and bounced off, causing the metal to vibrate painfully. Whatever that projectile was, it hit the dresser and exploded, scattering various articles of clothing through the air.

He stood still, silently glaring at the young man in front of him as a piece of cloth fluttered down and draped itself across half of his helmet. An exasperated growl rumbled up out of his lungs. "**I think you should leave, go back to the Grim Angel, and lock yourself in the brig. And I'd consider doing so very quickly before I kill you and blame it on Zoro.**"

His point made, the young pirate fled. The sound of soft whimpering could be heard as the boy tore out of the cabin like he had been set on fire.

He slowly seized the object clinging to his helmet and dragged it away. "**How has Clayton accomplished anything before I came along? Those pirates of his are, to a man, cowards.**" He cast a glance down at the scrap of cloth in his hand, and reacted with a rhetorical question. "**Whoa, what have we stumbled upon here?**"

Again, Soul Calibur answered as if he had been asking her. "_You don't know what a brassier is? I thought you had three live-in girlfriends at one point._"

He tossed the minimalist scrap of cloth aside. "**Not the point lady. My point, is that the owner of that one is stacked like a damn castle.**"

There was a pause before the sword reacted. "_I don't understand, why is that important?_" It was another moment before she added, "_Wait, is this about sex? One of my former wielders thought of nothing but that whenever she was around one particular man she traveled with._"

He glanced over his shoulder into the glowing crystal eye. "**Right now I don't know whether to try to explain this to you, or just brush it off until a later date. Considering that you aren't exactly human I'm not sure you would understand-**"

A panicked outcry from out on the deck shattered the somewhat awkward moment. "It's Monkey D. Luffy. We're all going to die!"

He stood, frozen in place for a long time while listening to the crashing and screams from the reignited fight. "**I say it again, how in Hell did Clayton accomplish anything with this crew?**" Another few moments of chaos and carnage passed before he hung his head in exasperation. "**I suppose I should go out there and save their asses. They are still my employees, aren't they? Well, can't let the impression be that I leave my people out in the cold, so to speak.**"

He drew Soul Calibur and slowly started walking towards the outer deck. In the back of his mind though, he was still trying to visualize what the girl might look like. Hell, he was a red-blooded man, he couldn't help it. If she was even half as attractive as Juno was he might be on the verge of hitting the mother-lode for pieces of ass. If not, well, and this metaphor was strangely accurate in this case, there were plenty of other fish in the sea.

He stepped out onto the deck, just in time to watch several of the pirates from the Grim Angel get whiplashed off of the deck by the stretchy arm of the heavily tanned boy on the opposite end of the deck. His pawn, Zoro, was down on the planks next to the rest of the captured Straw Hat pirates, so he could assume that "Luffy" had also taken the swordsman out, which did him a bit of a favor really because he had been planning on killing Zoro after this mess was over anyway. After all, he couldn't just let people get away with making fun of his Overlordly presence, people would talk, think he'd gone soft.

Luffy stopped thrashing Clayton's crew and froze, staring at his glowing golden eyes with the awe deserved. "Whoa, cool, how do you do that?"

A female voice burst out before he could make a snappy comment. "Kick his ass Luffy!"

He twirled Soul Calibur once around his wrist before settling into an aggressive posture. "**Well, I can guarantee this much. My ass is not the one that will be getting kicked today.**" He started edging his way forward, wary of any stretchy antics. "**I mean, not to brag, but I've beaten everyone on this ship personally so far. And apparently you are the biggest threat on this pile of driftwood so I think I'll be pretty well set when you do die.**" He added as an afterthought, "**Oh yes, and then I'm going to locate the lady you have on this ship and woo her with my wily wily ways.**"

Luffy didn't react to the last comment at all, and simply leaned back while winding up a punch. Of course, the term "winding up" in this instance actually meant that the supposed leader of the Straw Hat Pirates was twisting an arm up in a grotesque display that nauseated him with every little revolution.

Luffy smiled the smile of a madman, the kind with every single tooth in the mouth on full display, and roared, "Elephant punch" before literally shooting a tiny little fist at him. His torso twisted to the left faster than a normal human could react, allowing the fist to sail right by him, before he hacked at the extended limb. For the first time, he had a taste of the killing power contained by the blade he had been carrying. There was almost no resistance to his swing, and the dumbfounded look on the suddenly one-armed pirate was all the encouragement he needed to leap straight in for the kill.

Soul Calibur screeched in his head, sounding absolutely manic. "_No, wait!_" The warning, whatever it was for, came too late. The first foot of the crystal blade carved through a tiny body that probably only had another two inches before a clean cut separated the boy's torso in half. Said body stumbled backwards a step and collapsed to the deck, blood erupting upwards like a fountain.

He shook his sword, ridding the black crystal of any remaining blood. "**I've fought slugs that put up more of a fight than that, and were at least twice as threatening. Frankly I don't get all the hype surrounding these Straw Hats, they went down-**" A frantically waving hand in the crowd stole his attention, irritating him enough to end his mocking rant. "**What is it?**"

One of Clayton's pirates stepped forward, oddly enough the same one that had confronted him earlier in the day about him supposedly talking to the air. "Sir, what's happening with your sword?"

He looked down at Soul Calibur, which was surrounded in a nimbus of crackling, blue lightning. The crystal that constructed the blade was also changing, turning from black to brilliant blue, a change that started at the tip and was working its way slowly down the length of the blade.

Stunned, the only words he could form and speak were horribly trite. "**Well, that doesn't look good at all.**"

His response was a loud, icy shriek accompanied by a burst of lightning that twined down his arm. His hands began moving without his consent, and attempted to drive the sharp end of Soul Calibur through his torso. Only with an awkward contortion of his spine was he able to keep his innards on the inside. He heard more screams around him, but his attention was consumed with preventing the attempts of his suddenly suicidal body to come to fruition. Internally, he was completely befuddled, unable to comprehend why Soul Calibur would freak out like this. And there was no doubt in his mind that was what was going on, unless Luffy had had some kind of curse applied that attached itself to whomever dealt the killing blow.

The deck shook beneath his feet, but as he struggled he was certain that the shaking was not caused by him or the berserk weapon controlling his hands. Then he heard it, over the wailing of Soul Calibur, a soft thud in the distance before every resulting quake in the deck. The Grim Angel's guns were silent being so close, which could only mean someone else had arrived at the party. And this somebody clearly did not care about any kind of loot; they were shooting for the kill. The identity of these attackers was provided for him, as all the important identifications had been before now, through the terrified cries of Clayton's crew. This time it was a loud cry of, "Marines!"

Said Captain's voice cut through the chatter, "Alright lads, that's it, we're out. Clear this deck, double time you slack jawed idiots. First the Straw Hats and now the Marines? On their own would have been fine, but at the same time? Word of mouth contract be damned!"

He yelled at the back of the fleeing pirate. "**You son of a bitch! When I get out of here I'm going to kick your ass up and down the deck of your entire ship four times!**"

Clayton stopped at the end of the boarding ramp before turning around. There was a look of genuine pain painted across his face. "I'm sorry, really. But my boys can't handle this crap."

As the boarding ramp was pulled away a particularly large volley rocked the deck of the Thousand Sunny. This disturbance rattled him just enough that he could let go of the insane sword, which fell and impaled the deck, standing straight up. He stood as well, feeling a rage boiling up inside him as the world around him fell apart. He had won this whole thing fair and square, now some third party just swoops in to steal his thunder and glory? Not so long as he had anything to say about it. He ran for the aft section of the ship, the helm, where he could get the best view. Once there, he spotted the offending Marine ship far off to the starboard side, where it was lobbing cannon shots in from maximum range.

He raised his hands to prepare the same spell that had destroyed the last ship to piss him off, filling it with his fury, his indignation, and his insurmountable pride. "**Been nice knowing you. Let's never do this again.**"

The distant explosion was brilliant, but he only looked long enough to confirm that the Marine ship had been destroyed. He turned, and was faced with a group of angry Straw Hat Pirates, whom disturbingly were no longer restrained at all. He felt his eyes involuntarily widen a little in spite of himself.

The giant one with metal arms and blue hair slammed one fist against the other. "You're going to pay for this, for all of it."

He slowly backed away holding his hands up in a non-threatening way. "**Pay for it? Well, I seem to have left my coin purse at home, sorry.**"

Another fist slam was the giant's response. "Not the kind of pay I was thinking of."

His back hit the railing and both parties stopped moving, giving him the time to weigh his options. He was alone, unarmed, and squared off against seven individuals of unknown power. The appearances of these people ranged from the hulking metal-armed man, to a blonde man in a suit of some kind, to a tiny thing that looked like the grotesque offspring of a human and a deer. He really did not want to see that family reunion. And then there were two slender figures that were standing in the shadow of the massive pirate, on which he could smell the subtle hint of perfume.

Unable to resist the opportunity he had been presented he smirked and mouthed off. "**Don't give me that look, I can smell your pussy from here.**"

A cloud must have shifted, because two women, nay, two exceptionally well endowed women were revealed to him in the moonlight. One was a redhead or strawberry blonde, hard to tell at this hour, and the probable owner of the brassier that had landed on his head earlier. This judgment was based solely upon the observation that the red-head was wearing a similar article of clothing now, leaving nothing above the waist to the imagination. The other woman had black hair, and was similar in most physical regards with the exception of darker skin and a slightly less revealing choice of upper body attire, but only just.

The latter of the two, possibly angered by his vulgarity, gave him a glare that would terrify any of the minions. "If Zoro were still on our side he would rip you into bloody shreds, but we'll make do on our own."

He smiled, and cocked his head ever so slightly to the side, letting honey-coated words slip through his lips. "**Oh? And you're sure you want to do that to me?**"

Their reaction was what he expected, both women were startled for a moment as they were disarmed by his undeniable allure, but this was only a temporary thing and probably made them both even more angry at him in the short term.

He shot a short glance over the railing and down at the roiling seas. "**Well from the looks on your faces I can tell that yes, you still do. So, I think that makes it my cue to make a dignified exit.**" He vaulted over the railing and opened a portal as he fell. "**See you around suckers!**"

Just before he sailed through the portal there was a moment when what appeared to be an arm snatched at his ankle, but the grip of said "arm" was unable to support him and he continued downward, and homeward. He swore though, that he would reap two debts of revenge from this outrage. One against Captain Clayton Steel for ditching him, and one against the Marines and whatever governing body they represented for ruining his fun.


	4. The Devil Inside

Chapter 4: The Devil Inside

Netherworld Tower: Private Quarters

Acheron sat on the edge of his grandiose bed, surrounded by the glittering gold of his private hoard, chin resting in his left hand, while his shoulder muscles received a rather enthusiastic rub down from Ghost Fay, straight through the armor he was still wearing. He would be the first to admit that he found her presence rather disquieting, but the electric jolt she sent though his muscles was beyond compare. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that she was mostly spirit, and so being reached deeper into him than fingers of flesh could, or it might have been the deceased fairy queen's total magical nature. Either way, he wasn't going to start complaining when Ghost Fay got the results she was getting.

On the topic of magic, he felt oddly guilty over leaving Soul Calibur behind on the Thousand Sunny. They might have bickered with each other like two misers over a single gold coin, but he supposed the constant company hadn't been so bad. Fay's ghostly touch might have been soothing to his musculature, but that was about as far as it went. Part of him was still quite curious about why Soul Calibur had chosen that particular moment to go insane, why not any time before that?

He closed his eyes and relaxed, trying to let his anger over the Thousand Sunny go for the time being. "**Just a little lower, a little to the right…**" He shivered as Ghost Fay found the sweet spot directly between his shoulder blades. "**Oh yeah, right there.**" He let out a long sigh of contentment, and would have fallen backwards onto the bed if Ghost Fay hadn't been right behind him. Technically, he would have just passed right through her unless she for some reason wanted to be pushed down through the bed, but there was just no need for him to instigate that situation.

Just as he was on the verge of nodding off, and forgetting his troubles for a little while, a panoply of little voices shattered his peaceful state of mind. "Master, Master! Look Master!"

His eyes snapped open with what seemed to him an audible click. "**What is it? I'd make some additional witty remark but it would sail right over your scabby little heads.**"

Three of his brown minions traipsed into view, all struggling for possession of that odd jar he had appropriated from the cabin of that red-headed girl on the Thousand Sunny. Said jar looked considerably worse for wear, especially after being pawed over by the minions, covered in pieces of rotten meat and dried patches of fecal matter. It sparked his irritation again, but mostly because the minions seemed to have taken the jar from his room without getting his permission. They really just couldn't help themselves when it came to shiny objects, now could they?

The three minions, failing to ascertain between themselves which one of them had claimed the piece of glass, dropped the jar on the floor at his feet, adding another impressive ding to the shell, and clumsily saluted. Then the one standing in the relative middle of the formation, and the only one with any visible clothing other than the rough loincloth and only sign of any field experience, spoke up. "Master, sneaky jar try to escape from Master. We no let it!"

He stared blankly at the minion, processing what he had heard several times to make sure he was getting the right message. The little imbecile was trying to tell him that the glass jar, had been trying to escape? He ran it through his head one last time and found no reason to reevaluate the statement, minute though it was, another time. Letting out a long, great sigh he stood up, took one step forward, and kicked the minion out of the window set in the far wall. Just as he was about to turn back to the bed, drift off into dreamland, and dismiss the whole matter as a delusion brought on by spending too much time around the Blue hive something about the jar caught his attention. Specifically the fact that it had moved a significant distance away and was rolling for the stairs.

He jogged three steps in the same direction and lightly set his foot on top of it. "**Not so fast there, you devious little thing.**" He grabbed hold of the knob on top of the glass, preparing to pull. "**Now, let's see what's really so special about this little trinket.**"

He yarded on the stopper only once, using only a tiny fraction of his great strength, and ripped the top off of the jar. Once he did, the pinkish purple liquid inside was almost catapulted out, as if under high pressure, and coalesced just to the left of his yeti-skin rug. A few moments passed when nothing changed but the steadily growing size of the puddle, but then the entire mess surged upwards in one motion and formed a shape that he was familiar with. Well, this particular one was new but the general idea was spot on.

The "shape" was a woman, and a very well-endowed one at that. Her blonde hair was cut short, about even with the height of her shoulders, and was curled inwards on the ends so as to frame her elegant face in a neat little bell shape. She had long legs, actually a little on the abnormally long side of the spectrum if he really wanted to get technical, but he didn't. And of course, the most enticing part about the whole thing was that the mystery woman was standing there as naked as a baby fresh out of the womb. He paused briefly to silently congratulate himself on such a profound metaphor, what with the jar being the womb and all from a poetic point of view.

He quickly thought up a pick-up line, drawing inspiration from an old story he had heard as a child. "**Hey, I thought genies only came in lamps, not bottles. Either way, I'm ready for my three wishes.**"

The woman turned to face him without so much as a shred of shyness or shame, breasts swaying freely, with a completely humorless look on her face. "That was, by far, the worst line I have ever heard." She tossed her head, shaking a few strands of hair loose from her hairdo. "But, I suppose I do owe you for letting me out of that stupid jar."

He cocked his head to one side, matching the woman's sultry tone as he responded. "**And, just how do you plan on doing that?**"

The blonde smirked, "Clearly, not how you seem to think I'm going to repay you."

His internal response was akin to being splashed in the face with a bucket of cold water and subsequently slapped, but he outwardly managed to remain somewhat nonplussed. "**Ah, I see, so what did you have in mind then?**"

The woman's smirk grew more intense, as if she could tell despite his lack of reaction that she had hit a nerve. "Oh I'm still thinking about that. If you want me to hurry, why don't you shoot an idea or two of your own my way?" Her eyes flicked downwards once towards her nude body. "And while you're at it, a dress would be nice."

Fighting the urge to grind his teeth in annoyance he silently ordered one of the minions to grab one of Juno's old dresses, the yellow one with slits up both sides of the torso to the armpit, and proceeded with a different line of questioning to move his mind away from his, at least momentary, failure. "**I suppose that's fair, but you could spit out a name I presume. It gets fairly awkward thinking of you as just 'she.**"

The woman crossed her arms in front of her, finally removing the tormenting sight of her naked top half from full view. "As you said, I think that's fair. You can call me Honey Queen if you like, simply Queen will suffice if you feel lazy."

This time, he was unable to keep a note of derision out of his voice, besides his obvious sarcasm. "**Sure I'll get right on that.**" He noted out of the corner of his eye that Juno's old dress had arrived, and he silently told the minion to wait before giving it to Honey Queen, if that was indeed her name. He was going to let her sweat it out, both literally and figuratively, for the time being. "**Next question, these devil fruits I've heard about. Say I wanted to get a hold on one for myself, where would I begin?**"

This time, Honey Queen didn't even try to be subtle and openly laughed at him. "Well if you want one I hope you are either phenomenally lucky, or ungodly rich and only slightly less lucky."

He gave the blonde a flat glare and wordlessly jabbed his thumb in the direction of the literal mountain of gold surrounding his bed, a hoard that most any pirate would happily sell both family and soul to possess. His reward was finally getting Honey Queen off balance, and recovering his own.

It was his turn to flash an arrogant smile, and smile he did. "**You were saying something? I was too busy trying to remember the point at which I surpassed the point of 'ungodly rich'.**"

Honey Queen hesitated, and the first tinge of red showed up on her cheeks. Whether the blush was from anger or embarrassment he could not say, but she was definitely rattled. "Ah, well you still need to be extraordinarily lucky, no amount of gold will change that."

He was smiling from ear to ear. "**Really? Explain why, if you don't mind of course.**"

The blonde now seemed to be unconsciously leaning away from him, indicating that she was afraid now that she was reacting to him and not vice versa. "Well, occasionally you can find a devil fruit growing wild in the Grand Line. That is astronomically rare, so most of the time you're going to find them for sale, but vendors charge an arm and a leg for the things."

He nodded once, satisfied with his options for more power. "**Good, since I have an express lane already open to the Grand Line I can start there.**" He waved over the minion holding the dress. "**And I guess you can have that clothing you requested, because you've just been **_**so**_** helpful up to now.**"

Honey Queen did a double take, and he could assume that she had just realized he had been deliberately holding out. She certainly was giving him a glare of rage that would have made a lesser man quake with fear. "You, how dare you! How long were you planning on making me wait?"

He chuckled, long and low. "**Lady, you'd best get used to it, because you aren't leaving unless I say you can. Why, you might ask? Well, technically you are booty, in more way than one, and I claimed you as plunder while on the Thousand Sunny. That means I own you right now, and I don't think I'll be inclined to change my mind any time soon.**" He brushed by the blonde on his way to the stairs. "**Best get comfortable, because you literally can't leave unless I let you. Play nice with Fay while I'm gone.**"

He turned to the ghostly woman, and gave her a wink. So without saying it out loud he was giving his tacit approval for Fay to "have fun" doing whatever she wanted to Honey Queen. Some people thought that a ghost wasn't that much of a problem, those people had obviously never been haunted by a dead fairy queen. A nightmare was barely scratching the surface of the experience.

Grand Line: Netherworld Portal

Acheron sprang from the portal, this time aware of the higher exit velocity and able to compensate without falling on his face. Once again, here the sun was just rising over the sea far to the East so he should be alone for quite some time. He cast his gaze about, with an eye for greenery in particular. Close by, there was one scraggly tree that was practically growing right in the Netherworld gate, but nothing could seriously grow on that. Off in the distance, away from the town that he knew was there, he could see a stand of bright, green palm trees. As he was looking for something growing, that looked like the perfect place to start. Did he know exactly what he was looking for? No, but he could always ask Honey Queen if he thought he had something. And if she was reluctant, Fay could always have a bit of good fun wheedling the info out of the blonde. Such actions were not cruelty; they were necessity, especially if they won him an awesome power that the Old Man had never gotten his hands on. That was the true allure.

He rolled his neck around on his shoulders, eliciting two small cracks, and dashed off towards the patch of green he could see in the distance.

Grand Line: Nine hours later

Acheron stormed back towards the Netherworld gate, fists clenched tight enough to cause the metal of his armor to creak, trying with all of his will to keep himself from just annihilating the town across the way out of sheer frustration. He had picked over every piece of living greenery on the entire island with a fine-toothed comb and had nothing to show for it. Not even some crazy, messed up coconut from one of the palm trees. Now was one of the few times in his life when he felt like just throwing a tantrum despite the possibility of witnesses. He was so close, he knew it, but the object was eluding him by the width of a hair.

As he neared the Gate he again looked at the one twisted tree that had grown despite the essence of the Netherworld tainting its roots. In a way, he could feel an odd bit of sympathy with it. After all, he had grown up in the decidedly hostile environment of Nordberg and had become stronger for it. However, despite how poignant that metaphor might be, the tree looked more dead than alive, all black and twisted with no leaves to speak of. He walked over and faced the sea, taking a seat with his back against the same tree, to have a little time to think. Again, he found himself damnably missing Soul Calibur, partly because he was sure that right now she would say something witty and they would start arguing again. But he wouldn't be nearly as frustrated as he was right now. As a symptom of such, he closed his eyes and hit the back of his head against the tree.

A soft thud occurred just to his left, and he opened his eyes again but did not look immediately. If he had just wasted a whole day crawling through bushes to find what was right under his nose since arrival, then to hell with remaining calm. He slowly turned his head towards the white sand and beheld what had fallen from the magically saturated tree. It was a small semi-black orb that was slightly transparent. A hazy purple aura hung in the air around it like a flame around wood, some of which seemed to drip off and created tiny black holes in the sand that would fade after a second or two. He didn't even have to ask Honey Queen, this thing could be nothing but a devil fruit.

He plucked the object from the sand and held it up in the fading light of the evening and voiced his thoughts, speaking to the object like it could talk back. "**Now, I know there is something I'm supposed to do to get whatever power you have to offer, but what exactly is that?**" He tossed it up once and caught it again. "**I suppose the most obvious thing to do would just be to take a bite, but I don't exactly like the look of this thing. Do I have to say something, or make a wish?**" He blinked twice and spun the devil fruit in his palm. "**Screw it, what's the worst that could happen?**"

Aware that it was very difficult to eat anything through the faceplate of his helmet he set the black object on the ground and raised both hands to his helmet and pulled. As the metal cleared his ears out tumbled his shock of medium length brown hair, but it took a sharp eye to notice that his hair was brown and not actually black. He took a moment to think about when the last time was that he had taken his helmet off outside of the tower, and he found that he couldn't remember a single instance. It felt good, to feel the wind on his face fully. And when he really thought about it he couldn't put too much faith in his helmet, after all it wasn't nearly as effective as he wanted it to be. That said, the statement behind the helmet was far more important than just his physical comfort, so he wouldn't likely be changing anything soon.

He snatched the fruit up of the sand and raised it to his mouth. "**Down the hatch, said the pirate to the tavern wench.**"

He bit deeply into the black skin and almost immediately he felt the almost overwhelming desire to spit it out the taste was so horrible, but despite the tears it caused to well up in his eyes he forced himself to swallow. He looked again at the now offending edible, and took interest with the fact that both the aura and weeping black were both gone from the fruit. Satisfied that he no longer had any use for it he wound up and hurled the disgusting object as far out into the waves as he could. It vanished into the sky while still on an upwards trajectory.

Finished with his act of petty revenge he turned his eyes on himself, and he found that the aura that had clung to the devil fruit was now hovering around both of his hands, but it was fading slowly. Curious, he lifted his right hand, palm out, and simply tried to exert his will over the haze that he could see. The result was a small black hole in the air in front of him, but that seemed to be all. He tried again and achieved the same result a few feet further to his right. Now though, now he could see something really interesting. Through the first hole he could see a patch of sand and ocean vista that looked quite similar to the spot of to his right. Cautious, but emboldened by his solid theory over the course things had taken; he reached out with his right hand and stuck it through the first hole. He was shocked to see, even though he suspected as much, his hand now sticking out from the other hole several feet away. The sight was disconcerting to say the least, but off the top of his head he could think of just so many possibilities.

On the surface from another person's perspective this power didn't seem like much, especially when he could already make portals home to the Netherworld on a whim. But now, he could cast portals to anywhere, at least he thought so. If he was right though, he need not ever set up a Netherworld gate again. He would only have to be able to visualize where he was going. It was, well, in his mind he saw it as being as close to omnipresent as he could get. And that wasn't even considering the other fully applicable uses he could think of.

His open palms snapped together into fists and he looked off over the sea. "**Now, who gets first dibs on retribution? The Straw Hats? Clayton? Or do I take down the World Government?**" He leaned forward and scratched his chin with one hand while reaching for his helmet with the other. "**Not really much of a debate there, two out of those three choices are just nuisances. One betrayed me and deserves a real whipping.**"

He thought for a moment about what would be the best place to find his former business partner, and he immediately came to the conclusion that the Grim Angel was his best shot; because a captain would never stray too far from his ship. But he stopped before he tried to open a gap directly to the deck, wondering for a moment if what he was trying to do was within his capabilities. He only speculated that this power was not limited by distance, so, what if he tried something too far away and wound up floating in the endless void? He shook his head and jabbed a finger into his forehead to emphasize the idiocy of these doubts.

He raised both hands and focused, cursing his target as he did so. "**Clayton, fuck you and your metal ass.**"

He exerted his will; doubts banished, and was rewarded with what he had been hoping to see, the forward deck of the Grim Angel. He smiled, a fierce demonic sneer, and dove through to the shocked cries of the deckhands.

Drunken Privateer: Back Room

Captain Clayton Steel threw back his head and downed the last dregs of his second flagon of rum, but found that his conscience would still not be drowned. Over his internal monologue, in which he viciously attacked himself over his call to ditch that Acheron boy to the mercy of the Straw Hat Pirates and Marines, he could hardly hear Captain Whitebeard outline what they knew about Portugas D Ace's situation. Not that he didn't care, far from it, he admired and respected the boy a great deal. And considering that he was the son of the last pirate king, Gol D Roger, that made the boy more important than most of the treasure in the world. Of course, the World Government knew that, that's why Ace was due to be executed.

He turned his gaze towards Whitebeard, the man at the head of the table that was the de facto leader of the assembled pirates. The giant man that did not, in fact, have a white beard, was built like a bear. Whitebeard was tall, indeed the pirate towered over most everyone here and through Whitebeard's open shirt he could see that the old man's chest rippled with sinew. He thought it no small stretch that, if not for his logia-class devil fruit, Whitebeard could tromp his ass handily. After all, the title 'strongest man in the world' was not granted lightly.

Whitebeard leaned forward onto the table, causing the wooden slab to bend and creak, and his white mustache twitched ever so slightly as the great pirate finished his speech. "…And that's what we know so far." Whitebeard looked around at each of them individually. "Anyone got any bright ideas?"

He simply stared silently into his rum, able to offer nothing but his best wishes to the rescue effort.

A crash resounded through the establishment that raised the heads of all in the room, but what really got him was the voice that accompanied the noise, a tone that was utterly unmistakable as it demanded one thing, "**Where is Captain Clayton?**"

All eyes in the room turned to him, but he simply smiled and stared down into his flagon of rum, and he muttered a single phrase. "Karma really is a pain in the ass."

He glanced up only once as the door was kicked in, framing the person of his former business partner in the dingy light pouring in from the bar proper. The boy stood like the embodiment of wrath, armed with nothing but fists. But considering how the glow-eyed boy had been able to hurl him around like a toothpick when he was made out of solid metal, a punch was liable to hurt as much, if not more than getting shot, and with the intensity of the glare he was receiving he would likely have plenty of opportunity to decide for himself what those fists felt like.

A hand fell on his shoulder, fingers splayed like claws, which made a lot of sense when he looked at the fingers on the gauntlet and saw that they were made to look exactly like that, claws. "**I'm sure that I don't need to explain why I'm here, especially to you.**"

He shut his eyes and set his mug down in anticipation of the impending hit. "Yeah, I know. But if you think I'm just going to sit here and let you beat the stuffing out of me you better think twice. I'm the "heavy metal pirate' remember?"

His answer was a punch to the jaw that shot him through the back wall of the bar and out into the street and hurt more than any blow had a right to. He skidded the length of an entire ship before he stopped against a sturdier building, what he guessed to be the gunsmith if he remembered the town layout correctly.

Acheron stepped through the hole in the back of the bar, cracking his neck and slamming one armored fist against the palm of his other hand. "**Oh I haven't forgotten, but I'm going to beat you so hard that you will.**" An extremely dark, purple haze formed around both of the boy's hands. "**And I think you'll find that I have a few new tricks that put anything you've seen to shame.**" A black void opened in the air to glow-boy's left. "**Speaking of which…**" Another hole opened in front of his face just as Acheron shot a fist through the first one, and somehow the fist wound up slamming him right on the nose. "**…That one was for ditching me on the Straw Hat's ship.**"

He sat up, cupping his crushed nose, and spoke, though his words were garbled. "I'm sorry alright, you sick fucker! My boys couldn't handle that much crap and you know that!"

Acheron's golden eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but it was a relief that another punch was not thrown. "**I remember, especially how they would scream in panic at the slightest threat to their lives.**" The aggressor took a few steps closer. "**I guess that's why it felt so good to kill each and every one of them.**"

He was dumbstruck for the shortest of moments, and then his outrage erupted like a volcano. "My crew? You think you can just get away with that?"

Acheron simply shrugged. "**Maybe, maybe not, but I seem to be doing a damn fine job of getting away with it right now.**"

The flagrant disrespect cost him what little calm he had left and he surged to his feet, reaching for that little switch in his mind that activated his devil fruit. "Not so long as I'm still breathing."

Acheron's eyes narrowed into a glare. "**That can easily be remedied.**"

Another voice joined in, one which bellowed out only one word, "Enough!"

He glanced towards the source to find Whitebeard standing in the hole they had made in the back of the bar, and the look on the great pirate's face was enough to send a shiver down the spine of the hardiest sailors.

Acheron shifted his glare to Whitebeard, as arrogant as can be. "**And who are you to tell me what to do? If you want to be next that can easily be arranged.**"

Whitebeard did not seem to react, at least from his face, but the man's burly arms had tensed up like the rigging of a ship in a storm. Then it hit him what was going on, Whitebeard was going to use his own devil fruit, the Gura Gura no mi. When Whitebeard clapped, the arrogant upstart Glow-boy was going to find himself several miles out at sea. He felt himself smirking like a fool for the imminent moment. Whitebeard started to draw his hands…

He stared straight at Acheron, anticipating an erasing. "Prepare to say goodbye to the ground, asshole."

Whitebeard's hands crashed together with the force of a tidal wave, creating a sound that echoed through the air for a full five seconds, and that was it. No shockwave, no flying Acheron, no revenge.

Acheron blinked slowly, and then glanced back and forth between Whitebeard. "**So, what, you're going to applaud me to death?**" Another hole in the air opened and Glow-boy punched him in the jaw again. "**That was for calling me an asshole.**"

Whitebeard stepped between him and Acheron, holding a hand up with the obvious intent of preventing further hostilities. "Would you give us a minute?"

Acheron shrugged in a grand fashion. "**Sure, whatever, take as much time as you like.**"

Whitebeard pushed him with one hand, backing a large distance away from Glow-boy. The great pirate's face looked completely neutral, but he had spent enough time around Whitebeard to recognize when the giant man was deep in thought.

Once they were significantly out of earshot he stopped allowing himself to be drawn backwards. "Ok, what's this about? That bastard killed my crew, as a captain I am owed a life debt to that man. One for every man that sailed with me."

Whitebeard smiled sadly. "True, but you also claim that you owe him for the broken promise you made. That's beside the point I'm thinking of though." Whitebeard shot a glance towards the subject of conversation, who was idly scratching a design into the back of the tavern. "You know how hard of a head Impel Down will be to crack and-"

He interjected a pointed objection. "No, no, and hell no. I don't care if you shoot me at the place out of a damn catapult just to knock the door open. I am not going to work with that boy again unless I have no choice."

Whitebeard gave him a no-nonsense stare. "That's what I'm saying, I don't think we have a choice. You know how hard the World Government's been pushing lately. My fleets have taken a real beating, enough so that I think it would be a flat out miracle if we got anyone inside. You saw and felt what that boy did; he somehow nullified both of our devil fruits at the same time, punched you from twenty feet away without moving his feet. If we can convince him to help us free Ace, then I think would be worth biting the bullet to our pride."

He ground his teeth against each other as Whitebeard's words hit him, as the cold logic sank in. And no matter what way he spun it he couldn't deny that it made sense, both the aspect of them needing Acheron's help, and of how Glow-boy had become something of a dead zone for devil fruit users.

He grudgingly threw out an admission. "I guess, and he did practically take on the Straw Hat's all by himself, even without that fancy black hole trick."

Whitebeard nodded once. "Fine, then I'll try to talk him down."

He grumbled as they started back towards Acheron. "Please do, he wants to kill me and is more than capable of doing it."

Acheron barely acknowledged their presence, not taking his glowing eyes off of the etching on the back of the tavern. "**So, are you done with your little chat so I can get back to kicking Clayton's teeth in?**"

He unconsciously moved a hand to his mouth while Whitebeard spoke. "Actually, about that-"

Acheron's hand fell to his side and he glared at the both of them. "**What do you want?**" A slight pause followed when neither answered, so the boy continued. "**Oh please, that's obviously what you were talking about over there. You want to turn my aggression towards your enemies and away from yourselves. I'm hearing you out because I'm bored, but you better have a damned good reason for me to leave this degenerate alive.**" This was punctuated by a damning finger pointed directly at him.

Whitebeard remained somewhat nonplussed, which irked him a bit considering that it was his life on the line, and began his argument. "Clayton here tells me that you probably hate the World Government just about as much as you hate him right now. The saying is 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend' after all right? We're trying to take them down, and we could really use you on our side."

Acheron didn't take the bait. "**The World Government will get its due when I feel like it. It's part of my prerogative as an Overlord, I dominate. And if those idiots are standing at the top then I'll kick them off and stand on their corpses.**"

A tiny glimmer appeared in Whitebeard's eyes. "And do you plan on walking there? Swimming? Their HQ is quite a ways out there."

Acheron shrugged once. "**Well, I'll have the Grim Angel, considering that its captain will soon lie in a broken mess at my feet.**"

Whitebeard smirked, pulling upwards on the corner of his crescent moon mustache. "So, you'll have one ship. The World Government has an armada. Fine ship she might be, the Grim Angel will be sunk inside of five seconds if you charged the HQ alone. You need us, just like we need you."

Acheron was silent for a good deal of time, but his withering glare never faltered. "**Fuck. Fine, what do you need me to do?**"

Whitebeard smiled, but it was not a snobbish one like you would see on a World Government admiral. "We, that is to say my pirate friends and I, are staging a rescue for a very important person, the son of the last pirate king, Gol D Roger. Ace is locked up in Impel Down, the toughest prison in all the seas, and is due to be executed. I'm quite sure we can muster the numbers to breach the naval defenses, but those of the sea herself are beyond our abilities."

He jumped in and offered some information. "Sea kings, the most dangerous bloody animals you can find, anywhere. They'll rip a ship to shreds in seconds if you piss them off, and the ones around Impel Down are pretty much perpetually pissed."

Whitebeard finished, "I'd like you to go to Fishman Island and talk to King Neptune. Perhaps the fishmen will have some way to turn those sea kings against the World Government, or at least keep them away from our ships."

Acheron was clearly unhappy, but at least seemed content to go along with them. "**Fine, but I'll still be taking the Grim Angel.**"

Taking a risk, he took a step forward and got in Acheron's face. "Not without me you ain't. You need me to navigate at the very least, so you can kiss thoughts of killing me goodbye."

The pair of golden eyes glared back at him with feverish intensity, like two cauldrons of boiling metal, for an exceedingly long while. Without warning a spike of pain exploded upwards from his groin, and he crumpled backwards to the ground while clutching for his brutalized nether regions.

Acheron's voice carried no particular emotion that he could discern, nor was it exactly a priority of his. "**Hey, I didn't kill you. But I'll bet you wish I had.**"


	5. The Ritual

Chapter 5: The Ritual

Grim Angel: Open Sea

Acheron glared out over the ocean towards the rising sun, internally fuming over the situation he found himself in. No matter how much sense it made, no matter how he twisted it around in his head, he was still doing someone else's bidding. It cheapened this entire world for him by several orders of magnitude. His only recourse was to go about said bidding in whatever manner he saw fit, and right now he had other things in mind instead of talking to fish people, which was ironic when he considered that fish people were one of the things he had dreaded stumbling across before even coming here.

Clayton, now officially demoted to helmsman, shouted across the ship to him. "Course is all set. We should be at Fishman Island in a few days at most."

He turned his head for only a moment, and then cast a portal directly at his feet while willing one into existence behind Clayton. The instantaneous transmission went as he planned, but he was a few feet off from where he had wanted to be. To him, this only meant he needed more practice, and he was using every opportunity to test his limits.

He reached out a hand and seized the helm as Clayton was turning it. "**Belay that idea, I have another destination in mind.**"

The pirate started to object. "What, but Whitebeard said we had to-"

He spun Clayton around and shoved him against the wheel. "**What that geezer wanted can wait. I have a package that needs retrieval.**" He pointed off into the distance, slightly to the port side of the bow. "**That way.**"

Clayton looked off in the direction indicated, and then looked back at him. "What be this package? Whatever it is had better be damn helpful."

He took a step to the right to allow the pirate to maneuver the helm again. "**I don't exactly think you are in a position to be judging whether something is helpful or not. Bottom line is that I have priorities that supersede whatever I'm supposed to be doing for your little pirate alliance.**"He started to walk back towards the bow, but paused and added. "**And before you ask, just trust that I know what I'm doing.**"

He remained still for a long moment, fixing the former captain with a death-glare until he saw the helm moving where he wanted it. With a snort he moved back to the bow, focusing dead ahead, or perhaps off into the distance where he wanted to be. Clayton might have been under the impression that they were going off blind into the wild blue yonder but that was not the case. He could just feel Soul Calibur's presence off over the horizon. It wasn't too precise, more like that vague directedness received when a fly would buzz round his head but never land. Did he know what was going to happen this time, no he didn't. But it had been a decent amount of time since the psychotic outburst, perhaps things had settled down. If they hadn't, well, he could always go back to using the Apokalyptor. It wasn't nearly as much of a power trip, but it was better than using just his fists, even if it wasn't as visceral.

A cry of panic caught his attention, and he looked up in time to snag the brown minion that was about to plummet to its doom in the briny drink. Said minion hugged his leg enthusiastically before climbing back into the rigging.

Grim Angel: Two days later

Acheron spotted a ship dead ahead and he knew right then he was bang on the money. There was no mistaking the profile of the Thousand Sunny, and it stood to reason that the insane sword wouldn't have let anyone move it. Hence, Soul Calibur could not be on any other ship. After all, surely no other ship builder would be so cruel to the crew to put a smiling lion and sun on the front of the ship. Knowing what he knew, it was impossible to take them seriously. Especially so since Monkey D what's-his-name was now a nearly bisected corpse.

Apparently, Clayton recognized the ship as well, and was not happy about being back. "Are you bloody kidding me? This was your errand, run back for revenge? Waste of fucking time."

He wrapped his left arm around the shoulders of the upset pirate and reeled him in, before speaking in the calmest voice he could manage. "**Not revenge, that really can wait. As I said, I have a package to pick up. Remember that charming little voice that was always hanging around me, the female voice?**"

The pirate blinked stupidly a few times before answering. "I remember you and her arguing on and off every five seconds. I also remember that she tried to kill you, or get you to kill yourself at any rate."

He vocally waved off the concern, even if that was exactly what he was thinking about himself. "**Ah, details, try to be a little more optimistic. Remember she also allowed me to kill Luffy in practically one slash when you and your incompetent crew couldn't even manage to hit him.**" He backed away and spread his arms wide. "**And now it'd be no contest. I'm untouchable.**"

Clayton was clearly not convinced. "Those would be famous last words."

Again, he waved off the concern. "**Just bring us to a stop outside cannon range. I'll take care of the rest.**"

Thousand Sunny:

Franky, the shipwright of the Straw Hat pirates, if they could still call themselves that anymore, sat on the bottom step of the helm platform and just glared, head in hand, at the black shard of crystal that was sticking up out of the deck of his ship. Any of them that so much as set foot inside a seven foot radius of the thing was given a shock violent enough to knock anyone out cold. They had tried everything imaginable to rid themselves of it, but nothing worked. Robin had even used her devil fruit to sprout a pair of arms directly on the blade, which had only resulted in everyone standing close to Robin being the victims of another shock. Needless to say, having that thing there made it almost impossible to sail anywhere. And Luffy's body was still lying where it had fallen, which was now starting to smell rather horrible.

He started to stand, ready to try again to remove the offensive weapon even if he knew he was likely going to fail. "Beats sitting here doing nothing."

A swirling, wispy sound preceded a voice crowing from behind him. "**You might want to let me do that, you know, before she fries your brain.**"

He whirled about, shocked to say the least. Standing by the helm, leaning casually against the starboard railing, was the same man they had chased off of the ship after Luffy died. But, how had he boarded again? He looked around wildly, but he couldn't see another ship.

The dark one noticed this, and laughed hysterically. "**Let me help you with that.**" He pointed off to the port side, to what appeared to be a speck on the horizon. "**I felt like playing it safe for now, although I think I'm getting used to working the void however I see fit-**"

He lunged forward and threw a right hook for the boy's jaw, fully expecting the attached head to go flying off into the ocean when his fist connected. His target didn't so much as flinch, and a black hole swallowed his fist before it connected with anything.

He dumbly looked at the hole that engulfed nearly his whole arm. "What the-" He had the briefest of instants to register the sight of his own fist roaring towards his face, too little time to react, before he seemingly punched himself on the nose. This was only made all the more insulting by the crude laughter filtering through his ringing ears.

The boy delivered two more blows, one to his left knee and the other to the back of his neck. "**I really don't see why you're acting so hostile. After all, I'm here to do you a favor.**" His face was soon pressed to the deck as the dark one went on. "**I just came to get my sword back, and from the looks of things that would be a very good thing for you.**" There was another bought of chuckling. "**You could get the corpse off of the gangplank for one thing. It smells worse than a green minion that's been out in the field for weeks, like rotten eggs and fish heads.**"

He struggled violently to break free, thrashing around like a wounded bear, but it was in vain. Defying belief, the scrawny man pinning him to the deck was stronger than his mechanized muscle was by an indescribable amount. If the same man wasn't acting so utterly arrogant he might actually have some grudging respect for them.

He felt his body lifted skyward, but he put up a token resistance by flailing at the space beneath him, and knew what was coming before the voice spoke. "**I hope you know how to swim.**"

He went from static to hurtling upwards at a dizzying rate of speed, smashing through the top of the mast along the way and continuing far out over the ocean. He sighed to himself and resigned to a long wait before he hit the water.

Thousand Sunny:

Acheron smiled as he watched the giant fly off into the distance, taking a moment in his head to review the scuffle, particularly the act of reversing the path of the metal fist to strike its owner instead. He had a feeling that that particular trick was a joke that would never get old, at least for him. His enemies, however, would very likely get sick of it upon the second delivery provided that the first wasn't already lethal. He glanced around the deck, noting that the other Straw Hat pirates in sight seemed to be doing the smart thing, staying the hell out of his way. To his disappointment, neither of the two women were visible, but that was a diversion he could pursue at any time so it was not that important.

He finally turned his attention to Soul Calibur herself, who was impaled into the deck in the exact same position where he had left her. Apparently either the pirates were too afraid to approach the weapon or there had been dire consequences when they had tried. He'd guess for the latter, because common sense would have them remove the damn corpse, and the stench was even worse up close. In light of that he almost felt a twinge of sympathy for the Straw Hats, with emphasis on almost.

He directly addressed the sword, silently hoping that he would get an answer. "**Hello? Is there anyone sane in there for me to talk to?**"

There was a long moment of silence where it looked as if his hopes were going to be dashed, but then Soul Calibur's eye flickered to life and her disbelieving voice hit his ears. "_You, you came back for me? Why?_"

He ignored the whispers of the pirates around the deck and walked closer. "**Well what can I say, the quiet was starting to get to me. I'm sure Gnarl is way too busy watching Fay torment the resident of that jar, whose name I simply cannot remember right now, to ramble in my head. And I think I'm going to have to do quite a bit of killing in the near future. Just wouldn't feel right without you there to help me do said killing.**"

Soul Calibur let out one short, half-hearted laugh. "_That does sound quite plausible._"

He waited, and when he was not offered the answers he wanted he tried to prompt them. "**So, do you have an explanation for flipping out and trying to get me to kill myself in the most painful way possible like a suicidal masochist?**"

The vocal silence was downright oppressive, and things remained that way for a long time until the sword whispered inside his head. "_Look, can we not discuss this right here, right now? I just, I just need a little time to think and choose the right words for this._"

He was taken aback by the amount of trepidation in her voice. The sword sounded, ashamed? Depressed? How exactly was he supposed to apply those emotional qualities to a sword, even if he did view her as somewhat of a person, at least enough to say "she" instead of "it." More, why exactly was she ashamed? Was there something she had neglected to tell him? He recalled that she tried at the last second to stop him from killing Luffy, but what had made the rubber-boy so special?

He reached out and his hand hovered over the waiting hilt. "**Can I touch you, or should I walk away?**"

The sword answered. "_Yes, I mean no. I mean, yes, you can hold me again._"

Setting his features in a hard line he seized her handle, and was not immediately overcome with a desire to die. That in and of itself was a good thing, but he was still waiting on an answer for the question of "why." But, he wasn't going to get that unless they were alone, as odd as that was considering Soul Calibur could confine her words to his mind whenever she felt like it. Did the request mean she didn't trust herself enough to speak privately with a crowd around them?

He opened a portal back the Grim Angel and started to step through, but paused and turned back towards the Straw Hat pirates. "**Oh and by the way, you might want to go and find Whitebeard or whatever his name is. The geezer is running an operation to spring some big VIP from Impel Down or some other prison. Think about it.**" He stepped through the portal and redirected his attention to Clayton. "**You can sail to Fishman Island by yourself, I hope?**"

The pirate snidely responded. "Sure, sure, just so long as you don't mind me going a bit insane out of solitude and boredom."

He smirked, in spite of himself. "**Deal with it, find yourself a fish-girl when we get there.**"

Ignoring the responding rants of the pirate he opened another portal home, but stopped where he could linger in the void, the empty place between everywhere that the Portals in the Netherworld created safe pathways across. This was the place of old magic, a place which acted without thought, without anything at all. Lingering here was akin to floating on a tiny platform in a sea of infinite black, where you were the only one of anything to look upon the utter vacuum and still live. It wasn't something he had tested really, more of something that he just knew he could do. But, more importantly, it was a place where he could be completely alone, plus one.

He took Soul Calibur off of his back and let her float in the void just in front of him, her darkness contrasting only slightly with the empty black of the void. "**So, now we are as alone as we can possibly be. Is now a good time for you to explain your actions?**" An uneasy grumble was the only reaction, so he pushed a little bit harder. "**Look, I'm trying to give you the benefit of the doubt right now when any sane person would have just walked away. You can trust me.**" He found that, surprisingly, he meant it.

His moment of sincerity seemed to be the last needed push, because Soul Calibur started speaking, if a little hesitantly. "_I'm, still not quite sure how to explain this but I'll do my best to put it in terms you can understand. What your father was doing, corrupting me, he wasn't done when the Cataclysm hit. Even after, the job wasn't all the way done._" This was the part where the shame came into play. "_There is just, this one part of the old me that refuses to die no matter what I do. Normally I can keep her in check, but, well as you have seen I can't always do so._"

He nodded slowly, letting the words and their meaning sink in. "**I see, but then why pick that particular time to lose control? Was there something special that I did?**"

The sword answered, words flowing a bit more easily now. "_In a sense, the boy you killed with me, Luffy. His soul was one of the purest I have ever encountered. Its strength was just enough for the old me to take over for that brief amount of time. Once his soul was consumed though it was only a matter of time before I resumed control, but, by then you were long gone and I knew that none on that ship were even close to be worthy of wielding me._" A sound resembling a sniffle echoed slightly in the darkness. "_You've spoiled me I think, you know, you and your father. Now that I know what real warriors feel like I doubt I could bear the touch of a mortal again. Not without doing to them what I almost did to you._"

He uneasily scratched the back of his neck, uncomfortable with how emotional Soul Calibur was getting. "**Ah, thanks for the vote of confidence, I guess.**" He tried to find a way to change the topic, and ultimately settled on the next logical question. "**So, this old you, do you have any idea how we could, you know, get her out of you?**"

There was a silence while the sword considered his question, made all the more deafening by the location they were in. "_I think, that if I had a willing participant, someone able to bear it, I could shunt what remains of the old me off into that volunteer. The problem, is that I would likely kill the volunteer unless they too were exceedingly pure of heart and spirit._" She paused for a second. "_That automatically disqualifies you, if you were considering yourself._"

He chuckled inadvertently. "**Yeah, I am in no way pure anything, unless you count awesome.**"

Soul Calibur echoed his laugh after a few moments. "_Ha, you can always make me laugh. That's a good thing though, I think._"

He finally opened the portal home, leaving the void behind and stepping into the throne room of the Netherworld. Immediately he was assaulted by a lingering scream and treated to the sight of Honey Queen getting chased around the area, clothing in complete shambles, by Ghost Fay. The spectral woman was flying after the blonde, cackling like a witch, and alternating between tearing at what little clothing Honey Queen had left and swatting at the living woman with one of the blue minions, so essentially a fish.

He found himself laughing at the display, but then an idea struck him. "**What about either of them? I don't know about the blonde but Fay was one of the nicest people I ever knew, when she wasn't trying to kill me, and before I accidentally corrupted her.**"

The sword, woman, whatever, reacted to his query. "_I really don't think so. The blonde one is practically riddled with jealousy and conceit. As for the ghost, well, she's a ghost. If what you say is true she might have been perfect, when she was alive, but now, not so much._"

He thought for a moment, felling a little bit angrier with every passing second. He had the means to fix this problem right under his nose and he knew it. Just what was it?

He glanced back at the sword. "**Just out of curiosity, how common are these abnormally pure souls? Say, my odds of running into another one over the course of just this little escapade.**"

Soul Calibur responded immediately, sounding a little apologetic. "_A lot higher than you might think, especially when you think about how alignment usually has very little to do with it. So, you're probably going to have to kill someone else like Luffy eventually. If it comes to taking me with you and dying or leaving me here you should just do the latter._"

He froze for a second; trying to make sure he had heard that right. "**Wait, you, what are you…**" He had an epiphany that shifted his train of thought. "**Hold that thought, I know exactly what we can do.**"

Netherworld: Minion Burrows

Acheron jogged by each of the minion hives, browns, reds, greens, and blues. Beyond, was a feature of the Netherworld he rarely had been called upon to use, the home of the death minion himself, Mortis. He had only bothered to utilize Mortis's services once before, when a minion of his had taken a particularly elaborate hat that he wanted to retrieve for Kelda. The minion had seized it and promptly been blown to pieces by a thrown bomb. Mortis traded minion souls in return for resurrecting fallen minions and it had never occurred to him that perhaps Mortis could do the same thing for people. If the deathly minion could, he would feel like a major jackass for not having done it for both Juno and Kelda immediately after they died.

As he approached, Mortis hobbled slightly away from the river he used to revive things and greeted him with its breathy, utterly creepy voice. "Welcome Master, I had wondered when you would come and visit me again." A loud, hacking cough brought a pause to the minion's speech. "What can I do for you on this fine day?"

He opened his mouth to ask the only question there was to ask, and he bit his lip for a moment before asking. "**Quick question, can you revive people as well as minions?**"

Mortis grinned like a fiend, eyes glittering malevolently. "I thought you would never ask Master. But such a transaction will require far more minion souls than required for a simple minion."

That stipulation he could have expected, how much it would hurt his figurative wallet remained to be seen. "**How many would you require to revive Queen Fay?**"

Mortis's grin became downright Evil as the minion answered. "I will require one thousand minion souls, of each type."

He felt his left eye start to twitch of its own accord, as such a transaction would reduce his minion total by a full tenth. He admittedly didn't use his minions too much, but if he needed them and didn't have them it could be a disaster. Still, ninety percent of the total wasn't too bad, perhaps he was overreacting.

A thought occurred to him as he recalled his earlier musings. "**Just out of curiosity, how many would it take for me to revive both Kelda and Juno?**"

The minion continued to grin. "Five hundred thousand, per person. Length of time dead makes it more difficult, you understand."

He was unable to keep his astonishment inside. "**What the hell? Fay has been dead just about as long as both of them. What makes her so cheap in comparison?**"

Mortis shook his head lightly. "The fairy Queen's spirit has stayed close on hand. That makes my job incalculably easier."

He felt like slapping himself on the forehead because the answer was just that obvious. "**Right, let's just stick with Queen Fay for the time being.**"

Soul Calibur, of course, felt the need to comment. "_As if you could do anything else._"

He hung his shoulders and turned to glare at the sword. "**Hey, I'm going through this much torment for your benefit. Can you spare me the commentary, just this once?**"

For once, Soul Calibur had absolutely nothing to say. And really, what could she say?

Mortis hobbled back towards the river, beckoning to him with the blade of the scythe. "If you would summon the spirit of the Queen, I will perform the necessary rites."

He silently called to Ghost Fay, following behind the deathly minion as he watched the souls of minions literally fly away from him and into the river. It was a disquieting number, but it was what was needed for him to proceed as he wanted to. Mortis approached the water, and as he remembered simply held his tiny hand out. As if responding to that, a body rose out of the deep depths, as opposed to right off the surface. He was surprised though, to see the red and black color palette of Dark Fay, but he supposed that it made sense that she would be brought back as she died.

As the specter of Ghost Fay arrived she was immediately sucked into her new body with a small shriek. With a small bolt of lightning, Dark Fay was reborn. And he found himself wondering if she was still as crazy as she was when he put her down a little while ago.

Dark Fay shook her head once as if disoriented, then saw him and smiled at him, like a bird of prey would smile at a their next meal. "Hello again, Dark One. I see you finally came to your senses, retrieving me so we can continue our Evil reign."

He mumbled to himself. "**Yep, she's still just as crazy.**" He desperately whispered to Soul Calibur before Dark Fay tackled him to the floor. "**Help, what am I supposed to do next?**"

The sword reacted appropriately, quickly. "_Just get her to put both hands on my hilt and I can do the rest_."

He reached back and palmed the larger portion of the crystal sword as Dark Fay stalked towards him with a seductive little smirk on her face. He half wanted to let the crazy fairy's obvious plan play out, but he really had other goals in mind at the present time. He ran through a few scenarios in his head, and brought his options down to one. He swung the broadside of Soul Calibur forward, aiming to do nothing more than scare Dark Fay into raising her hands. The Evil fairy flinched, bringing both hands up to protect her face. He seized the opportunity and forced Soul Calibur's hilt into Dark Fay's hands, and the fairy's fingers reflexively coiled around the black crystal.

He let go and backed away, just in case. In mere heartbeats the deed was done, whatever it was that had actually happened. But Fay dropped Soul Calibur and started to stumble backwards, looking dazed. What he saw next was nothing short of amazing, everything about Dark Fay, the red hair and over the top attempt to look Evil, was fading away. This was replaced by a form he remembered far too well to be simple coincidence. Who stood before him now, gazing at her own hands as if they were somehow made of diamond, was not Dark Fay or Ghost Fay, but the regular old Queen Fay, a woman who had attempted to kill him twice as he defiled the sanctuaries that she built for the creatures of magic. Once had been largely by accident and not by design. The second, that of sending a giant troll to squash him, had been calculated to the letter.

Queen Fay was a fairy, that word conjured up thoughts of tiny winged women, but Fay was special, in addition to simply holding the title of queen. Probably the most important aspect of that to him was that Fay was of a comparably normal body size. Her delicate hair organized into perfect ringlets and curls seemed to be a shade of grey, but that was an illusion created by the constant bright glow surrounding her. That same aura had never abated, even in both of her different forms. Her long dress was tantalizingly see-through from mid-thigh down, and in a small section just above her hips. Last, her baby blue eyes completed an image of innocence and utter sensuality.

He spoke despite a desire to remain silent. "**Well that, that was unexpected.**"

Queen Fay looked up at him, clearly horrified with her circumstance. "Oh, by the spirits, what have I done?"

The freshly purified fairy sped by him before he could so much as move another muscle, tearing up the stairs with a wail that brought tears to the eyes and agony to the ears. Once he recovered, both mental and auditory functions he turned towards the stairs himself for a moment, still too stunned to voice intelligent words.

Soul Calibur however, obviously had no such qualms. "_Oh you have no idea how liberating this feels. I now know I can kill anyone you turn me on without a second of hesitation. The fun we can have now, I'm getting jittery just thinking about it!_"

He picked up the fully corrupt sword and placed her where she belonged, right on his back. "**That's great news, but I think I have another issue to deal with before we get back to our mutual pirate acquaintance and forced agenda.**"

The sword could not help but point out the obvious. "_The fairy Queen? Why would you bother with that?_"

He started towards the stairs while he answered. "**Oh I don't know, the fact that I have an emotionally traumatized woman hauling ass through my home makes me feel bad.**"

Another commentary was sent his way as he mounted the first step. "_You, feeling guilty over a woman who got her feelings hurt? Wow you are really something else._"

He grumbled back, a tiny part of him already regretting the bother he had gone through just to get this sword back in his hands. "**Look, don't give me that. I turned her into a twisted mockery of who she was. I, completely by accident mind you, turned her against everything that she eve r stood for. And yes, I liked her, respect mostly but it was still there.**"

Soul Calibur had only one word left, "_Why?_"

He stopped on the stairs for a moment, confused. "**Huh, what do you mean 'why?'? Why did I like her or why did she turn against everything she ever stood for?**"

The sword made her choice. "_The first one sounds good._"

Put on the spot to describe why he liked something or someone wasn't exactly his strong suite, but he did his best. "**Ok ah, well, in spite of her attempts to kill me I admired how hard she fought to keep magic alive and free in the face of the Glorious Empire, even if she was completely blind as to whom her adviser actually was. And, well she has a really nice body and no one can say otherwise.**"

The crystal blade refused to drop the subject. "_So that's what it always boils down to, the body?_"

He was starting to get a little frustrated, and it showed in his voice. "**It's a big part of it, yeah. I have standards you know, and rather high ones at that. Why?**"

Soul Calibur brushed him off. "_Oh, no reason. Look, I'm going to be quiet for a little while so you can do whatever it is you're going to do with the Fairy. I suppose a 'good luck' is in order._"

He found the notification odd, but wasn't going to complain about good fortune when it was offered to him free of charge, especially when he had a potentially delicate conversation on his hands. One small outburst at the wrong moment and Fay would shut down completely, not a good move on his part. He froze a few steps down from the top, noting that Queen Fay had stopped at the railing, and was giving it a fairly contemplative stare.

Realizing what the fairy was thinking, he opened a portal and stepped through to a spot right behind Fay, planting a hand on her shoulder before she could jump. "**Now hold on, there's no reason for you to-**"

Queen Fay whirled into his grip and swung an open palm for his face, but the impact never came and she practically whispered a question to him. "The Sanctuaries?"

He tightened his grip on the fairy's shoulder, just in case. "**Gone, but now needless with the Empire toppled.**"

Fay was clearly not convinced. "You say they are not needed, but why would you need them, a creature of darkness, when they were meant to preserve the light? Why would they be needed when all the lands are now bound in servitude to your whim?"

He bit his lip for a second, but cautiously released the fairy, fully preparing to catch her if she jumped anyway. "**I wouldn't call it that. It's more like they work for me, except for the Empire citizens of course. But everything else has its place, even the airheaded elves.**"

Fay glared at him. "Oh yes, it is work to be chained to the very rocks which you mine. I would not be surprised if-"

He interrupted the rant. "**Now hold it, I don't use any chains anywhere. Everyone outside of the Empire works for me because they want to. I gave the elves Evernight, mostly. I kept the resort for myself obviously, but, you get the idea.**"

That last fact seemed to throw Fay for a bit, and the conversation turned towards the inevitable destination. "You corrupted me, killed me." Queen Fay choked out the next words. "I, I killed people!"

He scratched the back of his neck. "**Ah, not to sound dumb or anything, but that wasn't you. The corrupt you simply tried too hard to be Evil.**"

Fay gave him a flat glare. "Even so, you seem to have taken that version of me to your bed easily enough."

He shrugged. "**Well you're beautiful, corrupt or not. And, brutal honesty, I always found the original far more interesting than either of the doppelgangers.**"

Queen Fay crossed her arms and half-turned away from him. "A touching sentiment, but you'll pardon me if I don't take you at your word." A sad frown twisted her face. "Well, even though you don't have a history of lying."

A smirk twisted the corners of his mouth. "**Is that a tentative acknowledgement that I hear? And if not, how far do I have to go to prove it?**"

The fairy clutched at her arms, as if she were freezing despite the nearby lava. "I, I am not willing to admit that."

Sensing imminent victory, he pulled his face even with Fay's. "**Is that so? How about after I do this?**" With singular daring he loops a hand around behind Queen Fay's head before planting his lips over hers. The fairy fights him for about two seconds, but then leans into him with a passion easily comparable to her dark alter-ego. He breaks away and smiles. "**I'll take that as a yes.**"

Queen Fay's pounding heartbeat and heaving chest give him all the answer he needs; her words are the icing on the cake. "Just make sure that my temporary trust is not misplaced." His hand slid down and elicited a deep, sensual gasp. "V, Very well, you, AH, have made your point!"

He scooped the fairy up and headed towards the stairs towards the Private Quarters. "**Are you kidding, I haven't even gotten started yet.**"


	6. Fishy Buisness

Chapter 6: Fishy Business

Netherworld: Private Quarters

Acheron stared up at the ceiling of his room, smiling like a grade-A idiot but he really couldn't be bothered to care. Queen Fay might look like a demure, innocent damsel, but she was an absolute tiger between the sheets. He glanced to his left, noting the quiet, content expression on Fay's sleeping face as the fairy nuzzled deeper into the silken sheets. He resisted the temptation to wake her up and go another round, after all he did have pirates to kill and a government to destroy. They sure weren't going to do that to themselves.

He ghosted out of the bed and into his armor without a whisper, reaching the distant archway before he muttered triumphantly to himself. "**I am the man, end of the bloody story.**"

Descending the stairs two or three steps at a time he snatched Soul Calibur up from the alcove he had stuck her in for the past few days. She hadn't liked it, but he could deal with the whining by now. Plus, even his mood had improved, reversing the negative trend that had been going on ever since the fall of the Glorious Empire. And at this rate he could even stomach following orders from that geezer Whitebeard with a minimum of complaining.

A tiny flicker of blue light in his peripheral vision told him that Soul Calibur had woken up. "_Eh, oh it's you. And you're happy, why must I suffer such horrors?_"

He didn't even break stride. "**What are you going on about. You're not happy that I'm happy? Get real, I deserve to be.**"

The sword responded flatly. "_You are absolutely unbearable when you're cheerful. It's much better for me when you're angry. Because then you are far more irritable and it's easier for me to goad you into an outburst. I find those moments most enjoyable._"

He chuckled as the Portal spun up, ready to jump right back into the thick of things. "**So I'm annoying because you can't get a rise out of me, good to know. Sorry, I'll make sure to fake it for your benefit if something goes wrong when the time comes.**"

Before he could jump through Soul Calibur laughed and shot back. "_That's what she said._"

He froze with one foot hovering in the air. "**That's, heh, that's actually pretty damn good. And I really set myself up for that one so I can't get angry over it.**"

The sword groaned in exasperation. "_Argh, again with the cheerfulness! Stop it, seriously._"

He leaped through the Portal, grinning from ear to ear, and landed back on the deck of the Grim Angel. "**Not in your lifetime lady. I feel great, things are going my way, and maybe soon I'll be able to start kicking the World Government right where it hurts. So pucker up and kiss the new day.**"

Ironically, it was night on the open ocean, with a vast starry sky visible through rents in the cloud cover. Just for fun, he tried looking for recognizable constellations, and was not surprised that he couldn't find any, though it was slightly doubtful that he would even if they existed. Stargazing had never been one of his most enjoyable pastimes, and he doubted that it ever would. It was far too passive for him, too much time spent sitting in one spot. This was time that could be spent doing something productive, like sacking a large city that was an economic hub, or seducing said city's gorgeous queen. At the very least he could be sleeping.

Speaking of sleeping, he turned his gaze towards the helm. "**Hey Clayton, how's the trip going?**"

In a tortured, bone-weary voice the pirate replied. "Fuck you, you sadistic Evil bastard."

He walked up to the same level as the former captain. "**Nice to see you too Clayton, brilliant night for sailing, isn't it?**"

The helmsman of the Grim Angel turned towards him with an expression deader than most corpses. "What's gotten you so damn chipper all of a sudden? You chewed me out damn good last time we spoke, and now you're saying hello like we're best mates? I ain't slept in three days, you ain't my friend."

He shrugged helplessly. "**I don't know what to tell you, just trying to be a decent boss.**"

Soul Calibur jumped in. "_I do, he spent the last four days, what's the term he used, getting laid on and off. And believe me, I'm just as annoyed as you are about it._"

He turned to look at the blade over his shoulder. "**What the, you traitor. Why would you tell him that?**"

The sword shot back eagerly. "_Are you angry now?_"

He voiced his honest reply. "**Ah, no. I'm just shocked that you both are just so jealous.**"

Clayton groaned aloud. "Look, I don't give a damn. We're at Fishman Island, so you can do whatever else the hell you want to do. I'm going to bed, so if you sink us at least I'll drown while I'm sleeping."

He turned towards the only land he could see for miles around. "**So, that's Fishman Island? Seems a bit less fishy than I was expecting.**"

What he was looking at looked not nearly fishy enough. In fact, it looked like a completely normal human castle, if by normal he meant utterly gigantic and made out of the whitest stone he had ever seen. There were four huge spires he could see, and he could only assume there were another four on the other side, so four and four plus the two on each other side made ten spires. He could dimly see a town in the shadow of the huge structure, but it was hard to look at it with the massive stone construction drawing his attention instead.

Clayton shouted as he headed for the cabin. "No, that's Mariejois, the World Government headquarters. The smug bastards live there, lording their luxury over us. Fishman Island is the giant glowing bubble under the water. And that's right, I said under the water. Good luck getting down there."

He went to the railing on the starboard side and peered down. Way down deep, so deep that he almost couldn't see it, was a tiny sphere of light. He supposed it was like looking at a gold coin on the bottom of a well, with the singular exception that the coin could be reached. He supposed he could send his blue minions down, provided they would survive that far of a swim without getting torn to shreds by some sea creature, but that still didn't get him down there. He glanced at one hand and realized that the only expedient way of descending was to utilize his devil fruit still more, provided that he could aim correctly.

He held out his arm, palm out, towards that tiny speck of light deep beneath the waves, holding the idea in his head of that giant bubble and him being inside of it, which sounded really dirty inside his head for some reason. The feeling he had grown accustomed to hit him so he knew a portal was open, but instead of risk immediately drowning on the chance that he had not placed the portal correctly he opened the other one in the air off the side of the ship. Water immediately started flooding through and he snapped the gate closed just as quickly.

Soul Calibur reacted immediately. "_Well that didn't work well at all. Next plan?_"

He broke his focus just long enough to shoot back. "**Shut up, I'm trying to focus!**"

The sword crooned on in a voice a smooth a silk. "_Oh, are we getting irritated yet?_"

He took a deep breath and ignored the barb as he prepared to try something else and brought both of his hands up to cast a portal that covered the little glow under the waves. As he didn't have a connecting portal set up he should be able to guide this one into place by eye from the deck of the ship. Using his mind, he pushed the swirling black and purple vortex down until he saw a tiny point of light appear in the middle. And then he pushed the edges in little by little until the glowing bubble was the size it had been up until now. He smiled to himself as he pictured the amount of panic the little show would have created down there for anyone with eyes, although no one had yet mentioned to him whether these fish people saw the world around him as he did so it sort of took the fun out of the moment.

He muttered to himself as he prepared to open the second portal. "**Round two, let's see what life's going to deal me this time.**"

He cringed away from the portal as it opened, but there was no immediate gush of water. Instead, there was a beam of light that looked about as bright as one would expect from the typical sunny day. He drew the visible portal to him, and with a bit of trepidation stuck his head through only to immediately have his perception of reality flipped on its head, literally. He felt a moment of panic, thinking he was about to fall a very long ways down into what looked to be a passable duplicate of a harbor, but nothing happened. His feet were still firmly rooted on the deck of the Grim Angel even though his head was floating upside down over an entire city. Despite how utterly disorientating it was he couldn't help but pat himself on the back for his ingenuity and problem solving skills, and he began to push the portal around his head down towards the underwater docks in a mind-bending little trek that he really didn't want to repeat. It must have been even worse for the locals though, seeing a disembodied head flying around out of its own volition, and a scary disembodied head at that.

He orientated the portal to be even with the stone section of the docks and pulled his head back before stretching the void into something he could step through. "**Heh, I should have brought a bucket of worms with me and a fishing pole. I wonder if they find that offensive.**"

Chuckling to himself over the crude and utterly insensitive joke he took a step back and hopped through the portal from the deck of the ship, traversing thousands of yards, maybe even miles with effectively one step. He looked up, eyes following the curve of the inside of the bubble till the apex above the castle that stood in the center. That structure, like every other building within visual range, seemed to be made of coral. And this was something he wouldn't know much about due to his inability to swim, but one of the former nobles of the Glorious Empire had owned a mansion in Evernight built exclusively out of the rocky look-alike and had been kind enough to die during his invasion. All musing aside however, he was bound for the castle. King Neptune would be seeing him before the day was out, like it or not.

As he walked, oblivious to the stares of the people around him, Soul Calibur broke in on his thoughts. "_You think we should do something about Clayton? He is floating just off shore of the enemy headquarters after all._"

He stopped, tilting his head back and letting out a loud sigh. "**I guess so, I mean we might need the Grim Angel later for some reason or another.**"

The sword went on as he began to backtrack. "_Good idea, especially since I don't think you planned on hitchhiking to Impel Down, or at least that's what I think that pirate Whitebeard called it._"

He opened a fresh portal and took the two required steps to reach the door to the cabins on the Grim Angel. "**Exactly, because it is beneath an Overlord to hitchhike. Although I'm pretty sure I could just commandeer another ship without real trouble, and avoid the lip Clayton gives me at every order. But I do like this ship, so I guess I'm sticking with it.**" He raised a hand and pounded on the door. "**Hey, Clayton, are you awake?**"

An anguished roar was the only answer he received before the door opened to reveal the disheveled face of the metal pirate. "I am now you fucking ingrate. What's the problem, can't figure out how to get down to Fishman Island without my help eh?"

He smiled lightly at the accusation. "**Ah, no actually I already have been down there. I just came back up to tell you, as a courtesy, that you might want to sail away from Mariejois while you can. Someone is going to notice us bobbing around out here after a while, and it just wouldn't do for my ship to get sunk because my only capable helmsman is asleep on the job.**"

Clayton flatly glared at him for a long while, before speaking. "I really hate you, just so long as we're clear on that."

He spoke to the pirate's back as Clayton returned to the helm. "**Of course, just so long as you do what I tell you. We have that, and we'll continue to live peacefully.**" He directed his attention back to Soul Calibur. "**So, now that I've warned our surly pirate friend can we get on with our impromptu diplomatic relations?**"

The sword responded in the manner that she seemed best at, mocking. "_You're asking me if we can continue? Oh, how sweet of you, you're going to make me blush._"

He hesitated for a moment before opening a portal back down to Fishman Island. "**I'm, just going to pretend I didn't hear that.**" He stopped forming the portal and pulled Soul Calibur off of his back. "**Wait, actually now you've made me curious. How exactly would, no offence, a weapon blush?**"

Said crystal weapon's eye started glowing pink immediately in response to his query. "_Does that answer your question, Lady Killer?_"

He did a double take as the sword tossed Queen Fay's "special" nickname for him around as casually as could be. "**You, you were listening in the whole time you perverse little… And here I am calling a sword perverse. What kind of crime against fate did I do to deserve this kind of mental stress?**"

Soul Calibur's eye continued to glow pink. "_I suppose I can assume that your good mood is well and truly gone now?_"

He grumbled morosely. "**Yes, it really is. And I bet you're thrilled about that.**"

Fishman Island:

Soul Calibur watched quietly as her host meandered through the streets of the city towards the palace, looking at the world around her through a blue filter. She wondered from time to time if she saw things the way people did, apart from the obvious color tint that she was aware no human was afflicted with. Take her host for instance; did other people see a black skinned, lean, devilish rouge like she did? Her perception was undoubtedly skewed by association, but all the same she didn't want any harm to come to the young man. Maybe it was just the sound of her voice, but Acheron had treated her with far more respect than any of her previous hosts. All of them had simply seen her as a tool, ignoring her otherwise even if she had been fairly bossy and self-righteous.

She knew that she had been born from a shard of Soul Edge, and she remembered quite well what he had been, and probably was still like. He was completely consumed by one desire, the pursuit of more souls, more power. She knew, what was the human phrase, with all her heart, that she did not want to be like that. She wanted to be something more, she wanted to be human, or so close as could be obtained. And based on what she had experienced of magic, why couldn't she do it? She had seen people brought back from the dead, fully cognizant of all that had happened to them. She had seen a man become a god right in front of her eyes, or eye as it were. If these things could happen, why couldn't she take a step towards being more like her host. That was why she continually provoked him, she wanted, no, needed to know the right way people acted when they talked to each other. She didn't harbor any illusions of sprouting legs and moving about on her own, but she could at the very least be capable of talking and acting like a person. Her attention was drawn to a developing altercation at what appeared to be the castle gates. Credit where it was due, the guards weren't letting just anyone go in and see their king.

Being bound to Acheron, she sensed his intentions to get violent with the guards and attempted to appeal to his reason. "_Wait, don't kill them. What kind of impression is that going to send to Neptune?_"

Acheron backed away from the gate and responded. "**It says that I am a badass that doesn't give a fuck and is going to get his way.**"

She believed the proper human response for exasperation was to roll her eyes, but she only had one so resorted to a groan instead. "_No, it just says that you're a bloodthirsty brute that isn't going to negotiate on anything._" A spark of utter genius struck her and she added. "_Besides, it's what your father would do, and you don't want to be like him right?_"

Acheron reacted in a typical manner. "**Ugh, now when you put it that way I can't do that. So, what, I should try talking my way in?**"

Since the boy was bothering to ask, she decided to run with this opportunity as far as she could. "_Why even bother? You can use your power to just walk on through without so much as giving those fish-man guards the time of day._" She paused to try and make her voice as convincing as she could. "_That way you make a statement about your power without just killing everything in sight. That the common rabble is beneath your notice._"

Acheron shrugged slightly before speaking. "**Eh, why the hell not?**" The young man's next words were directed at the guards as he strode forward. "**Notice to all in my general forward path, if you value your dignity and poise you will not attempt to whack me with any sort of weapon. Failure to do so will result in immediate humiliation and acknowledgment that you fail at life.**"

Of course, the guards did not just step aside. Two blue fish-men, of course they all looked markedly blue to her, but these two more so than the others, armed with halberds swung for Acheron's head the moment the young man entered swing range. Of course, neither weapon came into contact with anything but empty space and finally each other as they crashed together where Acheron's head had been only moments before. What would be most unnerving for the fish-men though, was that their blades had gone right through the intended target without even a whisper. Compounding that panic, and also a little bit unsettling for her, was that the selfsame target just walked right through the massive gates like they weren't even there.

Acheron turned to one of the shocked guards on the inside of the massive castle. "**Excuse me, I think I'll need to be borrowing that.**" The young rouge reached out and snatched a long halberd from one of the stunned guardsmen and jammed it through the gate handles.

Her host backhanded the same stunned fish-man into the wall without missing a single step. "**Hate to hit and run, but I've got an appointment with royalty and I'm seriously late.**" A mere ten steps further down the hall though and Acheron paused for a moment, pulling her off of his back and looking her right in the eye. "**Wait a second, Gnarl has been telling me for years how the Old Man would talk his opponents down or do some such thing so as they didn't wind up dead. Direct violence was almost always the last resort.**"

She fought the urge to chuckle, wanting to hear it straight from the boy before she gloated. "_Why, whatever do you mean? Your father enjoyed violence a great deal._"

Acheron's facial features contorted inside the regal helmet, something she had a feeling only she could see. "**Even so, you…**" He snarled slightly, as there was no other way for him to put it. "**You played me for an idiot, easily!**"

She wished she had a mouth, just so she could smile at her host. "_Well, maybe you shouldn't be so quick to dismiss your father's methods out of hand. The very mention of him had you running the opposite way without a single thought._"

Acheron's glowing eyes narrowed just slightly, and she was again slung over his back. "**I guess I'll try to keep that in mind for the future. Could be important considering that I'm about to speak with a fellow royal.**"

The young man marched forward, again completely ignoring anyone or anything that tried to get in his way. Weapons were swung, only to hit a target on the other side of Acheron, literal walls of guards were passed through as if the mer/fish men were no more corporeal than smoke, and the sanctity of the throne room was violated with no more difficulty than placing a foot in an empty boot.

Her host made a grand gesture towards the giant, crowned, red-breaded merman that dominated one end of the room. "**You might as well call them off, I'm just here to talk to you and they're only going to hurt themselves trying to hit me.**"

As soon as the Mer King, Neptune, did so she felt her attention to the ensuing conversation wane away, drawn towards the room around them and the impressive show of opulence, and yet not gaudiness. Columns of what she could assume to be white coral supported the high vaulted ceiling, upon which delicate flowery patterns crawled. Towards the front of the room, seated on an equally massive throne, was the single largest man/thing she had ever seen, although considering the occasional scale of things in this world that title was likely going to be taken soon. In any event, King Neptune looked to be at least seven times taller than Acheron, seated. The king's beard alone was probably large enough to smother a small village with a mess of ginger-colored hair. As for the face of the giant merman, it was quite apparent that he was rather old. The deep lines around both eyes and mouth were irrefutable proof. Either that, or the lines were simply the result of the extreme stress of the office. Standing, or perhaps floating, to either side of Neptune were two more mer-people, one that looked like little more than a blob with a tail, and the other that was covered in bony ridges that looped around its body like the rings on a barrel. She could assume that they were advisors to Neptune, but she didn't really care enough to interrupt the ongoing discussion to clarify that tiny bit of curiosity.

Acheron however, seemed to have a different idea as he tapped at her eye. "**Hey, are you still listening? The old fish wants an hour or so to talk my offer over with his two ministers, Left and Right. So we'll be stepping out for a little while.**" The boy paused for a moment before he added; "**You were being unusually quiet so I just figured I should make sure you knew what was going on.**"

Again, she wished she could smile, but instead settled for winking. "_How kind of you to think of me, and yes, I'm fine with that. And yes I know you don't need to ask my permission._"

Considering that Acheron had his mouth open, the young man had indeed been about to say that, but his mouth flipped closed with an audible click and left the redundant sentence unsaid.

Fishman Island: Palace

Acheron idly leaned back against the wall, silently watching the patrolling guards go by as they had now been ordered to leave him alone. Only a few minutes had passed since he had left the mer-king to his political deliberations and already he was growing weary of it. Exactly like Soul Calibur had said before, he was a ruthless brute when it came to anything political. His method of "political action" with the Glorious Empire was evidence enough of that. But, the circumstances were rather different in this case. He needed the cooperation of these people, whereas he had only ever needed and wanted the submission and servitude of the Glorious Empire.

As often happened while he was bored, his gaze started to wander; across tapestry, vases, and windows. Through one of those windows though he spotted something that caught his eye, a massive stone tower in the palace compound that was sealed with a decidedly huge door, and that wasn't the even the curious part. Sticking out of the apparently wooden slab were all manner of sharp objects; axes, spears, swords, and what-have-you. Some of them looked far too large to be lifted by any human or merman. Some even seemed to outclass King Neptune himself. While most people would think immediately of who could have put the sharp objects in the door, he jumped along the train of thought to the point where the question "what is so important that is behind there" was asked first.

He reached out a hand and stopped one of the wandering guards, a merman, since they generally seemed a bit more amicable than the fish-men. "**What's in that tower over there, the one with all the axes sticking out of the red door?**"

The guard followed his pointing finger to the building in question and answered with a smile on his face. "Oh, that? That's the princess's room. Our king is very protective of his little girl."

He waved the merman away while muttering insincere platitudes. "**Yeah, yeah whatever, thanks very much.**"

This little tidbit of information had his crude mind churning at a diabolical speed, and for once not on the express grounds of adding another number to his tally of conquests. If daddy dearest, Neptune, was so obsessed with his girl's safety then any threat, real or implied, would add significant weight to the argument in favor of the King giving him whatever aid Whitebeard had had in mind. Further, if he plied his charms and stole the undoubtedly sheltered young woman's heart her impassioned pleas to the big fish would only do him good. Neptune might hate him for wooing his daughter behind his back, but he wasn't here to make permanent friends. And, well, a gorgeous mermaid princess as a prize certainly sweetened the pot.

He glanced to the left and right to check the locations of the patrolling guards before opening a portal across the visible distance to the tower. "**Life is a bit of a gamble, and I always eventually come up with the winning hand.**"

Soul Calibur immediately chimed in. "_Whether that hand is on the first or millionth hand is open for negotiation._"

It was difficult, but he bit his tongue to contain the instant rebuke hovering inside his mouth, not wanting to start a long argument at a time like this. He turned his attention towards the door again, looking for the handle or other such means of gaining entry. He found one, though it was predictably far over his head in a vertical sense. This minor problem was solved with a simple application of portals, namely placing one in the air right next to said handle. It moved surprisingly freely, especially considering that it was meant to be turned by someone far larger than him, but with a tiny push the huge door swung slowly inward.

What happened immediately and justifiably startled him, and that was as much as he would admit to. A giant shark, easily large enough to swallow the Grim Angel whole, tore out of the bowels of the tower barreling right for him. Now, objectively he knew that he could probably pass right through the massive animal without a murmur, but it is fairly difficult to think calmly when being borne down on by a giant animal. So, out of pure reflex he whipped Soul Calibur off of his back and ducked, slashing at the belly of the shark as it somehow flew by. It was only through sheer luck that he wasn't covered in the shower of blood and entrails that gushed outwards from the wound that he opened in the pale, shiny belly.

Soul Calibur spoke to him as he turned towards the unmoving carcass that covered the landing. "_You think someone is going to take offense at the fact that you probably just killed the King's pet?_"

That same question was running through his head, and how disastrous it would be for his half-hearted negotiations if he was discovered. Particularly because he was likely snooping around somewhere that Neptune wouldn't want him to be. If anyone so much as saw the shark, then all of hell would break loose.

Soul Calibur seemed to read his mind. "_Too bad we don't have an __**empty**__ room big enough to fit that thing in right?_"

The implication was obvious, and downright inspired. He simply snapped his fingers and opened a huge portal that swallowed both the corpse and the blood. So, ostentatiously there was no evidence that he had done anything even mildly offensive, unless of course it was a crime for him to simply be standing here.

He slipped inside the huge door and shut it behind him before voicing his gratitude. "**Thank you, seriously. If you had a mouth I'd kiss you.**"

Soul Calibur started laughing, as he had intended. "_Well then, I wish I had a mouth too._"

What struck him as a little bit unnerving was that he couldn't tell whether or not the sword was going along with his joke, or was crossing the uncanny valley in a creepy way. He shifted his attention towards the tower interior to refocus his mind, noticing that it was a fairly barren "room" if he could call it that. There was a large pit in the middle, almost reminiscent of a cell if he stretched his imagination a little. With a few steps he approached this pit, looking over the edge to see a mass of pink, pale cream, and yellow. Considering the rest of the castle, he assumed this to be a mound of coral that the shark must have used for a bed.

His left hand rose to the nape of his neck, scratching idly in an unconscious gesture of confusion. "**So, this tower was just the house of Neptune's pet shark? What happened to this being the princess's room?**" He checked again in every direction before coming to a conclusion that suited him. "**Ok, so I guess that one guard must have been completely delusional.**" But, just to be sure, he cupped both hands around his mouth and shouted into what he thought to be empty air. "**Hello! Is there anyone alive in here?**"

For a moment nothing happened, but just as he was about to turn and leave the "mound of coral" at the bottom of the pit moved. He watched in stunned silence as a giant mermaid unfurled in front of him, and did so to at least nine times his height.

His mouth fell open in comical repose and he could only utter two words; "**Holy shit.**"


	7. Culling the School

Chapter 7: Culling the School

Fishman Island: Palace Tower

Acheron was staring; he knew it and felt perfectly justified in doing so. After all, how many times in a person's life did they run across a member of the opposite sex that was several times their size? The girl was dressed only in the top half of a swim suit, like most of the other mermaids down here, and this was only significant to him because it showed off cleavage that he could literally use as a bed. On the same sort of topic, just looking at her made his eyes hurt because there was so much pink. She had pink hair that was done up with a pink, fish-shaped pin. Her tail, apart from the almost white fins, was a lighter shade of pink. It was just a bit much for him. As for her face, she looked drowsy, and rightfully so.

The giant mermaid's hands both rose up and rubbed at her eyes while she spoke in a hesitant, almost childish manner; "Uh, who, who's talking to me?" The moment her eyes opened though the girl surged away from him in as if burned. She was quiet; save the barely audible whimpering of someone so afraid they are beyond screaming. "Are, are you here to kill me?"

Thrown for a complete loop he immediately raised both of his hands in a gesture of harmlessness. "**Whoa, no! Absolutely not! What kind of question is that?**"

Apparently, raising his voice in indignation was also a very bad move because the girl looked further horrified and her lips started quivering, a telltale sign of something he absolutely hated. True to form, within seconds the giant mermaid started to cry, and that was about the most inaccurate term he could use while still getting it right. Tears the size of his head were pouring down the sides of her face so fast it was difficult to separate individual orbs, giving the impression of a waterfall rather than weeping. He felt his right eye start to twitch, emphasizing the agony the noise was causing him.

Soul Calibur chimed in, clearly not amused at all. "_Wow, you really have a way with women. A little more and she'll be eating out of the palm of your hand._"

He lowered his voice and hissed at the sword. "**Now is not the right time for being a smart ass, okay? I'm trying to figure out how to deal with this mess.**"

The crystal blade replied at full volume. "_Why, because this gigantic, royal baby can't handle someone simply raising their voice in her presence, someone so completely sheltered that she automatically assumes you are here to kill her? I say go along with it and do her in before she fills this whole tower with tears._"

He tore the sword off of his back and stabbed the black shard of crystal into the floor in front of him. "**Shut up! You're just making this whole thing worse by saying that!**"

Whether it was right for his sword to say what she did or not was a purely academic question by now, and surprisingly on the mark. By now the small pit the mermaid was in was over half filled with tears, enough to drown him should he make a clumsy movement and fall in. So, he was trying to stop this nightmare of sound, both for the girl's sake and his own. He hated to say it, but it got to him that the mermaid was terrified of him for no reason at all. Well sure, there were plenty of existing reasons for her to be scared, but none that she could have been aware of unless she was a psychic. Hell, even if she knew all of them there was still no reason to be afraid of him. He never knowingly killed a woman in his life, well, unless he counted that pirate bitch that had snatched his coin purse after a mere ten minutes into this little misadventure, but he deigned to not count that one.

He glanced down at the water level, which had somehow risen to the lip of the small pit in the short length of time it took him to mull things over in his head, and muttered to himself. "**Oh to hell with this.**"

He left Soul Calibur where she was and started to sprint for the back wall where the giant mermaid was cowering. The distance was short enough that he didn't consider using his devil fruit, but the instant he reached the mermaid's arm his ideas ran out.

Going for broke, he simply reached up and tapped on the girl's elbow. "**Ah, could you stop? Please?**"

Defying belief, and several rules of common sense, the mermaid stopped crying and looked down at him with a confused, semi-vacant look. "Stop what?"

He blinked a few times before he answered. "**You seriously don't realize that you cried enough to fill that basin you're sitting in?**"

The girl glanced down once, and then back towards him with something like guilt on her face, "Um, I'm sorry?"

He scratched the back of his neck in an effort to conceal his mounting confusion. "**Uh, sure, no problem at all.**" He shook his head once to clear his mind. "**Ok, serious question, why did you automatically jump to the conclusion that I was trying to kill you? Because I'm obviously not.**"

The mermaid stared down at her fingers while she contemplated his question. "Well, there is this man, Vander Decken the Ninth I think. He, um, he wants to marry me."

On the other side of the tower, Soul Calibur responded to this. "_Marry her, a giant mermaid with the mind of a child? I don't know who's worse, you for being so stupid or him for being a pedophile._"

He jumped in immediately, before the sword's insensitive remarks could set off another crying fit. "**Ignore her, she has no idea what she's talking about.**" Even if he did silently agree with his sword's assessment of the "bad guy" in the equation it wouldn't do to encourage those kind of snide comments in this princess's clearly fragile presence. "**So he wants to marry you, and shows his love by sending people to kill you? Please tell me that you see that for the insanity that it is.**"

The mermaid nodded her giant head enthusiastically. "Of course. I've tried to tell him over and over that he's not my type, but he won't listen to me." She looked around at the walls of the tower. "That's why, why daddy keeps me in here."

He looked towards the door, picturing the other side. "**Yeah, I kind of figured that, what with all the axes and other sharp objects stuck in your door.**" A spark shot off in his brain as a brilliant idea came to him. "**Say, this Vander Decken, I take it he and his crew are a huge problem for Fishman Island, right?**"

What seemed to be a simple yes or no question required a moment of contemplation from the mermaid. "Um, I think I heard one of the guards talking about how he attacks anyone coming to or leaving the island, so I guess that would be a yes."

He smiled to himself as a plan started brewing in the cauldron of his brain. All he would need to do was exploit this pedophilic pirate's obsession for the giant mermaid and he could acquire a phenomenal amount of leverage over King Neptune. He would be the one that rid Fishman Island of a dangerous threat, and effectively saved the life of the king's daughter. Neptune would have no choice but to give him whatever aid he required. Without a second thought he started to dash for the door, slowing only long enough to snag Soul Calibur out of the floor.

The moment he set a hand on the door he heard the mermaid cry out behind him. "Wait, aren't you even going to tell me who you are?"

He hesitated for a few moments before turning around and pulling his helmet off. "**The name is Acheron Killgore.**" He smiled, flashing his pearly white teeth a little, and shot the giant girl a wink. "**Try and remember it, because I don't like having to repeat myself.**"

The mermaid nodded obediently. "Yes, yes sir I will." She crossed the tower chamber in less than half the time it had taken him. "And um, I'm Shirahoshi, if you wanted to know."

He formed his right hand into a fist, raised it, and stuck up his thumb. "**I'll make sure to remember that when I'm out hunting down Vander Decken. After all, it is largely for your benefit.**"

For the first time that he had seen, a smile graced Shirahoshi's face, and that image stuck in his head as he pushed the door open and slipped out onto the massive balcony, the existence of which suddenly made a lot more sense. He momentarily considered how exactly he was going to find Decken. Not one of the castle guards, because he wanted his actions to be kept quiet until he had accomplished them, and not Neptune or the two advisors for the same reason. Now that he thought about it, just about anyone in the castle would generally be a bad idea.

Soul Calibur butted in on his thoughts. "_What about one of the maids? They see or hear everything, and are most generally ignored, except by perverts like you of course._"

The idea was good enough that he didn't even hear the insult, even if he had considered it an insult. "**Perfect! I'll get a lead from one of the castle help, and then all I have to do is forge a convincing love letter from Shirahoshi to the pedo-pirate. It's a fool-proof plan!**"

His enthusiasm was obviously not shared by his sword. "_Speaking of which, why exactly devise such an elaborate plan for the benefit of that air-headed mermaid princess?_"

He used a portal to return to the exact spot where he had been prior to his infiltration of the tower. "**Ah, it's not. This plot is designed to light a fire under Neptune's ass when it comes to aiding me take Impel Down. I just said that to Shirahoshi to calm her down, and maybe give the girl a little piece of mind.**"

Soul Calibur did not seem convinced. "_You do recall that I can see what's going on inside your head, so just maybe I know a little bit more about your motivations than you do._"

He leaned back against the wall as if nothing had happened, and let out a short laugh. "**Ok, if you know so much, why don't you explain my hidden motivations to me? And it had better be good.**"

The sword moved her reply into the confines of his head, probably in response to the guards walking, or floating, by. "_That's easy, you like her, and I cannot for the life of me even begin to wonder why. I mean she's an idiot, she's overlarge, she's… ugh._"

He glanced to the left, towards the throne room, and saw someone approaching him, so he attempted to wrap up the conversation. "**I'm going to assume that the 'ugh' is because you can't think of anything else to hold against her. More importantly though, even if you were right and I'm secretly doing this as part of a plot to win her over, why would you care? Seriously, if I didn't know better I might start thinking that you wanted me to start loving **_**you**_** of all people, and that this was jealously talking.**"

Soul Calibur had nothing to say back to that, and the emissary got to him and rendered the conversation over anyway. The fish-man bowed to a respectable depth and spoke. "His highness would like to thank you for your patience thus far, and would ask of you a little more time. He has the fate of the kingdom to consider and-"

He waved the speaker silent and countered. "**Whatever, it works out well for both of us anyway. I just remembered that I have a very pressing errand that I have to run elsewhere.**" He started to walk away, paused, and turned back towards the emissary. "**And this time, when I'm coming back, make sure that the gatekeepers know to let me through without a fuss. Wouldn't want any of them to get disemboweled by a wild swing now, would we?**"

The fish-man swallowed a lump of fear and nodded silently and he could have sworn that, as he was walking away, he could hear the emissary quivering. On the roundabout route he was taking towards the exit he glanced down one of the hallways and caught sight of what seemed to be the universal maid outfit, said outfit made all the tastier by the large, feminine derriere turned his way. Of course he was looking at a mermaid, but compared to the ones he had dealt with in the Evernight Reef every one he had seen so far had nothing short of a divine figure, and yes, he supposed that included Shirahoshi. Focusing on the present though, he had his maid in sight.

He smirked and opened a portal in the air next to him, sidestepping through it to appear about five feet in front of the maid. "**Hello gorgeous, spare a minute?**"

Understandably the mermaid let out a small shriek and dropped the tray she was carrying, threatening to spill what looked like a five course meal across the carpet. In less time than it took to blink he had crouched, delicately caught the tray without spilling a drop of anything, and risen back to his full height as if nothing awkward at all had happened. In this moment, he also took in the picture of the maid herself, aside from the standard frilly apron. She had red hair to match the red scales that covered her tail, long wavy locks of it that fell to about half way down her back. There was a small birthmark on the lower side of her left check shaped, amusingly, like a heart. She had blue eyes, the color of shallow sea-water in fact. And the fabric of her apron bulged tauntingly around her cleavage. Quite the catch if he might say so.

He set the tray down on a conveniently placed end table and smiled at the maid. Even if she couldn't see his face the effect was going to carry. "**Just a simple question and I'll let you get on your way, alright?**"

The red-haired mermaid was still obviously a bit shaken up, but nodded her head and spoke in what he thought to be a fairly interesting accent. "Ah, oui, what is it that you wish to know?"

He tried to focus on his original purpose and succeeded marginally. "**Say that I was looking for a certain member of a certain pirate crew, where would I go if I wanted to find them?**"

The maid didn't even pause to think. "You would want to go to the Mermaid Cafe. All the sailors that come and go from the island strive to get in to the place. Just to be fair Madam Shyarly lets in a few from each crew. So if your ship is in port, you'll find someone." She bit her lip and shot a glance over her shoulder. "When you get to the door, tell the girl who works there that Yvette vouches for you."

Professional job over, his smile warped into a lecherous smirk. "**I take it that you're Yvette then. To what do I owe the personal letter of recommendation?**"

The red-head flashed him a saucy grin of her own, showing off a set of perfect teeth. "Ah bon, your powers of common sense set you far apart from those worthless soldiers. Oui, I am Yvette, I worked at the Café for some time before I took this job in the palace. I suppose at the time I was a little in awe of the idea of serving royalty, but now I grow weary of this droll duty." Yvette shrugged once and continued. "As to why you get my support, let me just say that it felt good to be noticed again by a fine man like you. A lady has her needs and wants after all."

Thusly encouraged, he leaned in close enough to whisper and let his hands fall to the mermaid's hips. "**If that's the case, why don't I come back after I finish my little errand and see if I can fulfill some of those 'needs and wants.**"

Yvette took in a sharp breath of air when his right hand dipped a little further south to cup her ample rear end. "So bold, how could I refuse such an offer in good conscience?"

He let go of the mermaid and took two steps backwards. "**Then I'll see you after I kill a certain pirate captain. Don't go getting yourself lost till then, alright?**"

The red-headed maid smiled at him as she picked up her tray and moved on. He turned his head slowly as she walked by, just enough to keep Yvette's ass in view till she turned a corner ahead. He then smartly turned on his heel and marched right on out the front gates of the palace.

As soon as he was out of earshot of the gate guards he pumped his fist in triumph and chuckled to himself. "**Heh, chalk up another one for me.**"

His sword reacted immediately to this proclamation. "_Ugh, again I say it, pervert._"

He immediately corrected the blade. "**Wrong, if I were a pervert I would just stand around gawking at every woman that caught my eye. I am a womanizer, a philanderer, a scoundrel, a thief of hearts, etcetera. I've never met a woman that I couldn't bed if I felt like it.**"

A short moment passed before Soul Calibur continued. "_I know I'm probably going to greatly regret this, but exactly how many women are you talking about?_"

He had to stop and think about that for a second. "**Well, I'm pretty sure Kelda was my first, real fiery one that girl. Then there was Juno, which I have mentioned before in passing. Then, well there were several elven girls at the Evernight Resort that I dabbled with. And then of course there was Queen Fay-**"

The sword interrupted him, clearly quite exasperated. "_I get the picture. Ugh, why couldn't I just leave well enough alone?_"

He chuckled and kept walking. "**I'm going to assume that was a rhetorical question.**"

Fishman Island: Mermaid Bar

Acheron sat silently at a table in the corner of the brightly lit, cheerful interior of the bar. And he could see quite clearly why this place was the most desired location for any world weary pirate, every single one of the waitresses were drop-dead beautiful. He wasn't sure if this place was a secret brothel, but it easily had the potential to be. On a different note, as much as it pained him to pull his mind away from the subject of beautiful women, he could easily spot several groups of likely targets, individual groups of pirates that looked rough enough to be serving under an enemy of the state. They were all fish-men though, which made it almost impossible for him to differentiate between them except by color. He had a particular interest in one group of three that, like him, were sticking to one of the corner tables and keeping largely out of the way. That sort of behavior was generally considered suspicious to any rational person.

He flagged one of the waitresses over, fighting the urge to let his eyes drop to her chest all the while. "**Excuse me, but I was wondering if you could find out which of the men in here serve under Captain Vander Decken the Ninth.**"

The waitress smiled blankly at him. "I'm sorry sir, but I'm not supposed to-"

He held up a hand and silenced the young mermaid. "**There is a hefty tip waiting for you if you do.**" With a twitch of his wrist he flipped a bag of gold the size of his clenched fist up onto the table. "**If that's not enough I'm willing to double it, but no more.**"

There was a moment of stunned silence in which he was sure the waitress was seriously considering his offer. The spark of conflict in her eyes between greed and professional pride was clearly there, but before he could see the resolution of it the girl moved away from him and vanished through a door at the back of the Café.

Soul Calibur's smarmy tone sliced through his ears. "_You should have tried seducing her instead, seems that's all you're really good at._"

He started to shoot back, "**Well, if I thought it would have gotten me where I…**" He trailed off as another mermaid slid into the booth on the opposite side of his table, one with black hair and a distinctive gothic appearance. "**Ok then, who the hell are you?**"

The mermaid was flatly glaring at him. "I am Madam Shyarly, and I don't appreciate it when people try to bribe any of my girls."

Only two words registered with him, and they caused the corners of his mouth to twitch upwards. "**Sorry, I heard 'Madam Shyarly' and nothing else. Good though, that I finally know this place is an actual brothel. Wish I had known sooner and I could have dispensed with the polite approach.**"

Shyarly's glare turned to a look of outrage. "This is not a brothel, you hooligan!"

He raised his hands in mock surrender. "**Well excuse me, but where I come from the only people with a formal title of 'Madam' are the women who run fucking brothels.**" As his mind caught up with his mouth he chuckled a little. "**Heh, 'fucking brothels.' That's actually a pretty redundant thing to say. Like 'eating kitchen' or 'shitting toilet.**"

Shyarly's voice was quivering with anger, just a hair below blowing into a full scale scream. "For the last time, this is not a brothel and my girls are not up for sale."

It was just now that he noticed Shyarly was on a two-to-one scale with him when it came to size, and could easily tower over him if she unfurled her tail. Also, in a slightly jarring observation, he noticed that the teeth he could see through her parted lips were pointed, like those of a violent predator. It wasn't scary per se, but it did make the prospect of tongue-in-cheek interaction a bit less attractive. Either way though, the other patrons were starting to furtively glance over towards his table and the pirates were getting antsy. If he didn't defuse Shyarly quickly, they were all liable to bolt and he would miss out on a great opportunity to gain an insurmountable edge in dealing with old King Neptune.

Moving with deft precision of an athlete despite the awkwardness of the maneuver he stood and swung himself around the edge of the booth to bump Shyarly's larger form further towards the wall, eliciting a startled gasp from the large mermaid. "What, what are you doing?"

He reached up and seized Shyarly's left wrist and brought it down to the table despite a token resistance. "**Let me make this perfectly clear lady, I'm here to achieve a certain purpose. Now, once that purpose is done I can leave and get out of your hair, at least for now.**" He placed his free hand over the woman's hand and idly traced his finger across the back, noting the slight shivers his actions sent shooting up Shyarly's arm. "**So, why don't you just point me towards Vander Decken's crew and you can get on with your day without any further distractions?**" He felt the corner of his mouth twitch upwards and he applied a very light shock of magic to the Madam's flesh that instantly brought a flush to Shyarly's pale cheeks. "**Because make no mistake, I will get you to talk, one way or the other. Granted you'd probably enjoy my backup plan a whole lot more, but I'm in a hurry.**"

He saw the tiny glint of submission in her eyes before the Madam spoke, so he knew she was telling him the truth. "The trio of young gentlemen at that table by the front door. They serve on the Flying Dutchman; they can take you to Decken."

A glance over his shoulder confirmed the rather unexpected selection of clientele, before he planted a light kiss on the back of Shyarly's hand. "**Much obliged, Madam.**"

The woman snatched her and away with a derisive sniff. "Now I know you're mocking me. And you have what you came for, so please do as you said you would and leave."

As he stood, Soul Calibur of course felt the need to comment. "_What was that you said about being able to take any woman you wanted to bed? Because that one quite clearly didn't want you._"

He answered within the confines of his mind, keeping his private affairs private. "**Yeah, well, no big deal. Her tastes probably just run in the other direction, that's all it is.**"

The sword didn't let the issue drop as he approached the other table. "_What do you mean, 'her tastes run the other way'? Does she like vegetables or something as opposed to what her teeth seemed suited for?_"

He froze mid-stride, put on the spot as he was and completely lacking the terminology to explain the concept of lesbians to a naïve sword. "**Ah, well, I'll get back to you on that one.**" He recovered his aplomb with a breath and finished the transition to the other table. "**Gentlemen, fine evening isn't it?**"

There were three fish-men at the table, two of which were being complete party animals and were paying him no mind at all. The third, a burly green fellow that outweighed the other two combined by at least half again, affixed him with a withering glare that would have sent lesser men fleeing for their lives. This man was adorned with so many scars and tattoos that it was more like looking at a walking art gallery than a person.

The burly fish-man spoke to him in a low, threatening drawl. "Keep moving if you don't want a bullet between your eyes."

He held up his hands and fell back on the lines he had practiced in his head all the way here from the Palace. "**Don't you think your captain would be rather pissed off if he happened to learn that you shot the messenger delivering a letter from the Princess?**"

At these words all three of the fish-men, even the pair of drunken partiers, stopped dead and fixed him with the most disbelieving stare he had ever seen. Clearly, this kind of thing was a bit further outside the realm of possibility than he had anticipated, but at this point he really didn't have a choice but to plow through and see the ruse through to the conclusion.

The green fish-man held up a hand and made the universal "give me" gesture. "Let me see that letter."

He pulled a small envelope from his belt and presented it, but did not hand it over. "**You do understand that I can't do that. I'm under strict orders to put this thing right in Captain Decken's hands before the seal gets broken.**" He gestured to the red wax that held the folds together to emphasize his point. "**Besides, the guy doesn't sound like the kind that would take too kindly to someone reading his private correspondence before he did.**"

The burly pirate bit his lip, clearly trying very hard to find a flaw in the presented argument that would allow him to return to his drinking in peace. "That letter doesn't look like Shirahoshi wrote it."

He made a show of rolling his eyes for dramatic effect. "**Of course not, if the princess wrote this I'd need an envelope the size of a ship's sail to hold it. She dictated it for the convenience of all involved, mine, yours, Decken's.**" A smile spread across his face as he finished his improvised lie. "**She seems like quite the self-sacrificing type, doesn't she?**"

With a snarl the fish-man chugged the rest of his drink and stood up, beckoning the other two as he did so. "Alright damn it, you win. We'll take you to the Captain. But this letter of yours had better be genuine, otherwise that bullet offer still stands."

As he calmly followed the group of pirates, a confident swagger in his steps, Soul Calibur spoke in his head again. "_Wow, that was impressive. Even though I'm not quite sure what it is that I'm impressed by._"

He responded in kind so his guides didn't overhear. "**Easy, it's called the art of bullshit. Something I find myself uniquely gifted in, among other things.**"

Fishman Island: The Flying Dutchman

Acheron wasn't sure what to expect upon hearing the name of the ship he was being rowed out towards, The Flying Dutchman, but he certainly hadn't been expecting the name to be actually descriptive of the vessel. The ship was floating above the water at least as high as the mast of a regular frigate, and the only way up that he could see was a simple rope ladder that was rolling down as he approached. As for the Dutchman itself it looked rather ragged, like the planks were literally falling apart from spending far too much time in the water without getting scrubbed. The sails looked barely functional as the amount of holes in them would make most ship captains far too ashamed to show up anywhere. Granted, the flying part was undeniably cool, but that coolness only went so far. Well, that and the entire ship was bloody enormous, so big that he imagined that one couldn't see one end if standing at the other.

His burly green escort gestured up the rickety ladder. "You first, so no funny business."

He did as ordered and started up the ladder, noticing by the extra swaying when his escorts/guides started up behind him. He wasn't afraid of heights, but being on something this unsteady would put anyone on high alert for even the tiniest creak in the rope, or in the wood holding it up. Hell, he had seen twine in better shape than this ratty old thing. Bitching and moaning aside though, he made it to the top without falling from either personal or object failure. However, he lingered with his hands wrapped around the posts on the starboard guard rails, noting the again ratty shape of the pegs holding the rope ladder on.

A pirate on the deck barked at him. "Get your ass on board you lazy ingrate."

With a sharp heave he pulled himself up, chattering as he did so. "**Relax buddy, I just needed a second to catch my breath. That's a long climb in case you hadn't noticed.**"

As he pulled his second foot up he stomped hard on the right peg holding the ladder up. The fragile wood couldn't take the impact and shattered, putting all the weight of the three fish-men on the one remaining strand. Needless to say, that strand couldn't handle the burden and snapped heartbeats later. The surprised screams of the doomed men echoed on until the disgustingly loud sound of them meeting their sudden deaths upon the water.

A couple of the pirates onboard rushed to the edge, looking over in mortified curiosity. One voiced a thought they all seemed to be thinking. "Damn it, I knew we should have replaced that thing sooner!"

He was forced to bite his lip in order to keep himself from bursting out in raucous laughter. If they only knew that it was all on him to account for those three piece-meal deaths.

One pirate, a blue skinned brute even bigger than the one that had marched him here, turned towards him accusingly. "You, what were they bringing you all the way out here for?"

He shrugged, remained calm, and flashed the envelope containing his forged letter. "**I don't know, might have had something to do with this personal letter for your Captain Decken from Princess Shirahoshi-**"

An excited, if slightly bizarre peal of laughter broke in on his practiced line. "Bahahaha, I think she has finally accepted, finally given in to the love we share for each other!"

The beige, four-legged fish-man with a goatee springing along the deck towards him could only be one person, Vander Decken the Ninth. And the fish-man was completely fuck-ugly, especially when compared to his glorious personage.

Soul Calibur must have "heard" his thought because she responded as if he had spoken out loud. "_Ugh, how utterly arrogant can you be?_"

He whispered, full knowing that she would hear him even if no one else on deck could. "**You know it's the truth.**"

The sword might have said something back, but whatever reply she might have made was drowned out by the rambling Vander Decken. "Oh I'll need to start sending out those wedding invitations I wrote years ago and then we can-"

He interrupted the fish-man captain, under the assumption that if he didn't Decken would never stop talking. "**Hey! Are you even going to read the damn thing before you start waxing dopey love songs?**"

Vander Decken clapped enthusiastically like a child, before crossing his arms in front of him and flashing two "victory" signs at him from either hand. "Then I think you should give it here, my darling love letter!"

With a silent shudder he brought his right wrist up and sent the paper envelope on its way with a deft flick, shooting it down so that its natural tendency to rise would be balanced out. His aim was so good that Decken barely had to twitch a finger to catch the forged document.

The four-legged captain tore at the letter with unabated gusto, pulling out the slip of paper and holding it high over his head. "Shirahoshi writes me this most eloquent of letters, finally professing her love to me! It says…" The ship fell silent, waiting for Vander Decken the Ninth to read aloud the two words he had penned to the document. "…Fuck you."

He smiled and took the single step he needed to take to close to melee range with his target. "**Couldn't have said it better myself, jackass.**"

In one smooth motion he lifted his hand up to his shoulder and drew Soul Calibur, bringing her down as part of the same movement that drew her edge right through the vertical middle of Vander Decken's shocked face. For the sake of style, he kept cutting, bringing his arm around in a full loop that had his sword flinging up chunks of the Dutchman's deck as she chewed through that to complete the rotation.

With Soul Calibur propped up on his shoulder he turned on his heel to address the rest of the Flying Pirates. "**Now, if you would all just form an orderly queue so I can get this dull part over with. I have a very fine piece of ass waiting for me once I'm done killing all of you…**" He brought his sword around to the front in a ready stance. "**And I really hate to keep a lady waiting.**"


	8. The Eye of Envy

Chapter 8: The Eye of Envy

Fishman Island: Palace Throne Room

Acheron straightened his imaginarily-out-of-place armor with one hand while holding a large burlap sack over his left shoulder with the other. The shifting was an aftereffect of his celebratory romp with Yvette, whom was as adept at using her tongue inside a bedroom as she was using it for speaking. Perhaps he might whisk the maid away to the Netherworld upon the conclusion of his business on Fishman Island, after all he was sure that there were certain areas of the Netherworld Tower that could use a woman's cleaning touch, and Neptune could certainly miss one maid. Even if the big fish would miss Yvette though, he really wouldn't care because, technically, he was a pirate, and a pirate's singular job description was to steal things, with no real distinction between people or objects. As for the burlap sack, well, that was his insurance should Neptune turn out to need a kick in the ass to follow orders.

King Neptune, seated on the throne in all appointed fishy majesty, or lack thereof when it came to his opinion, glanced once to the left and right for the nods from the ministers of Left and Right respectively before speaking. "I do hope you realize what you are asking of me, jamon. There is only one person in my entire kingdom that can help you do what you ask, jamon."

He shrugged, nonplussed being an understatement. "**So what? Just point me at this person and let me do the rest. I'd be happy to talk some sense into them.**"

The Minister of the Right, logically located to Neptune's right side and illogically shaped like a horse with a tail, barked at him. "This is not a matter of 'talking sense' into anyone. It is a matter of posterity. Her safety is of paramount importance and is not up for debate."

He felt his left eyebrow twitch upwards. "**You say 'her' safety. Now what lady inside this bubble is worthy of that kind of protection?**" He knew full well who they were talking about, but not any idea as to how Shirahoshi could help him take Impel Down.

The Minister of the Left, something of a ball with a tail, provided the redundant answer. "Barring the fact that she cannot even contact the Sea Kings of her own volition, simply her leaving Hard-Shell tower is a threat to her safety. A murderous rouge by the name of Vander Decken the Ninth is after her hand in marriage, and if he can't have her then he will kill her, as he has demonstrated many times."

He saw his chance to make an optimal profit on his covert assassination and set the field. "**So, if Vander Decken were then…?**"

King Neptune answered this time. "If you could make it safe for my Shirahoshi to leave her tower, which has become essentially her prison, then I would leave it up to Shirahoshi's discretion, jamon."

A devilish smirk crossed his lips as he flipped the sack on his shoulder forward. "**Good, because I seem to have already done the job.**" He upended the sack and allowed Vander Decken's head to tumble across the carpet, surely an imminent nightmare for the poor mermaid that would end up cleaning it. "**And now, by your own words, I'm off to see Shirahoshi…**" He turned and walked to the door, where he paused and shot a glance over his shoulder back towards King Neptune, "**…Again.**"

The mouths of both ministers and King Neptune dropped open as if forced apart by a crowbar, faces completely blank out of utter shock. In a moment though, Neptune's eyes almost glazed over with rage, but his hands were tied by his own words spoken only seconds ago. With a callous, mocking wave he exited the room all but feeling the malicious intent spearing him from behind.

Fishman Island: Hard Shell Tower

Acheron put his back into throwing the doors wide, and unlike last time he left them open. Of course, Shirahoshi didn't know that the danger was past and shrieked at the open door.

Soul Calibur apparently couldn't resist. "_Oh lovely, back in the company of pink, fluffy cloud-for-brains._" She paused, during which Shirahoshi didn't immediately react. "_Didn't understand me? I'm not surprised you oversized-_"

He tapped the sword's eye, silencing her after the obligatory exclamation of 'pain' exited her non-existent mouth. "**Ignore her, she's just tired and needs a nap. And don't you fret over the door, Vander Decken will never bother you again, hell, he'll never bother anyone ever again. Or his crew for that matter.**"

Shirahoshi left her occupied space on the back wall of the tower and floated forward just a little bit. "You, you mean I can finally go outside?"

He shrugged, "**I don't see why not-**"

He literally blinked once and found himself snapped up off the ground to the music of a squeal of delight. Was it an unpleasant sound? Far from it, instead it was a sound that was simply so, well, clean. He wasn't used to clean anything unless he counted clothing, and damn it even getting almost smothered by Shirahoshi's massive cleavage felt way too fucking innocent.

Of course, that was going through his head. His body however had other concerns and his voice was making those needs known. "**Oh hell, put me down please. Choking, not breathing!**"

He was suddenly dropped on the ledge outside of the tower, and he couldn't call it the landing a rough one because he had the distinct impression that the giant mermaid was almost incapable, mentally anyway, of directly harming someone or something. Indirectly, or accidentally, that was a different matter as her emotional embrace just now had proved. But that was more a factor of her size than anything else.

He slowly stood, massaging his back through his armor. "**Ooh, next time I do something that makes you really happy, at least warn me before you put me in another death hug, ok?**"

Shirahoshi sat back and folded her hands across what he could consider her lap, a slightly embarrassed smile on her face. "I'll um, try to remember that. For the next time."

He let out a laugh, earnest and loud. "**Ha, indeed. Any time you find yourself being stalked by a homicidal maniac obsessed with marrying you, I'll be there to take them out as well.**"

Soul Calibur let out a disruptive groan. "_I would rather be dropped into the lava flows back in the Netherworld like you threatened so often._"

Out of necessity, and something he was getting a good deal better at, he ignored the smarmy comment. In addition, Shirahoshi seemed to be following his lead and was ignoring the sword as well. Probably a good idea, as Soul Calibur seemed to have nothing but negative things to say about the mermaid princess.

Putting pleasantries aside, he broached the topic that he had been pursuing for so long. "**Look, I know now might not be the best time, you just getting out of your little cocoon for the first time in years, but I had something I wanted to ask you.**" He waited until he had received silent approval before continuing. "**A few friends of mine are trying to rescue a friend of theirs from a really big prison up there.**" He pointed to the surface to emphasize his point. "**I heard from a very reliable source, namely that Minister of the Left, that you are able to exert some control over Sea Kings, and it just so happens that they are the only things keeping my friends from helping their friend.**" He had to grit his teeth when referring to Whitebeard and Clayton as "friends," but he managed. "**So, could I ask you to help us out on our little enterprise?**"

Shirahoshi looked away from him shyly, a tiny blush creeping across her face. "Well, they've only ever come when I've been crying. And I've never actually tried telling them what to do before."

He shrugged nonchalantly, viewing the admission as only a minor inconvenience. "**Well that's no problem at all. You just need a little bit of practice, just like any other skill.**"

The giant mermaid smiled for a moment, but then a thought seemed to occur to her that darkened her mood somewhat. "Um, before, before I do that there's somewhere I need to go first." She silently chewed on her lip for a moment, as if nervous about actually saying where she wanted to go. "I, I'd like to go and visit my mother."

For a moment, he was thrown by the tone of Shirahoshi's voice, like she was leaving it up to him as to whether or not she could go. "**Ah, sure, do what you like. You want to go visit family that's your business.**" He thought for a moment. "**Do you think two hours would be enough? I'd hate to rush you but I have something of a time crunch to deal with.**"

The princess nodded enthusiastically. "That'll be plenty of time, thank you."

The mermaid floated off, and there was a long silence before Soul Calibur broke it with a semi-hysterical rant. "_What the hell was that about? You were being nice, considerate, and caring. It was sickening!_"

He pulled the crystal blade off of his back and stepped over to the outside wall of the tower to sit down and wait. "**Well, whatever I was acting like we have our ace in the hole. So you should can it so far as my actions are concerned. Besides, I know you don't like Shirahoshi for whatever reason you can think up at a given moment. You're going to have to deal with it from now on.**"

The sword screeched at him. "_From now on?' You're speaking as though she's attached at your hip._"

He tucked his chin in toward his chest, getting as comfortable as he could manage. "**Well, for the rest of this little trip she just might be.**"

Netherworld:

Honey Queen massaged the small of her back as she stood from the floor she had been forced to scrub, cursing anyone and everyone she could think of for this situation she found herself in. She reserved a large portion of her malice for one person in particular though, the supposed "Overlord" that had her trapped here. Some Overlord he was, little more than a boy in an overgrown set of boots with an arrogant streak a mile wide. That woman of his, Fay or something like that, was barely tolerable, but tolerable nonetheless. Fay was merely a degrading annoyance that doled out menial chores whenever the bluish woman noticed a stain of some kind on the floor somewhere, or a particularly dusty set of drapes. Worse still, that floating floozy had had the nerve to float about while absolutely reeking of sex.

Not that she was jealous of the company that Fay kept, at least on a personal level, but her body absolutely ached for attention, and certainly not the kind of demented leering she was receiving from that wrinkled _thing_ called Gnarl, the little sycophant that praised Acheron's every deed. She had no idea exactly how long she had been stuck in that jar on the shelf in that red-headed bitch's room, but right now if a decent looking man crossed her path she felt like she would tackle that random man to the floor and relieve her pent up desires right then and there. Of course, that random man did not include Acheron. Although he would easily rank among the top three most attractive men she had ever seen she had certain standards to keep to, and it was very bad form to sleep with a captor without expecting to get anything out of it but satisfaction.

As if thinking about him was a summons she heard the unique boot steps of Acheron Killgore approaching. "**Well, if it isn't my little piece of pirate booty, still sweating it out as a maid are we? Oh wait, I forgot, you don't have a choice in the matter.**"

She glanced towards his chin to check whether his helmet was on or off, and noticed that it was off so she deliberately didn't look at him. "What the hell do you want now?"

Acheron's arm arced out and propped his torso up against the obsidian walls. "**Tut tut, now, watch that temper. I just thought I'd drop by because Queen Fay mentioned you had been, what was the phrase she used, 'most accommodating as of late' or something similar.**"

She bit her lip to hold back the automatic insult, even though Acheron had never made an overt move to hit her. "Is there a point to this little humiliation? Or did you just drop by to torment me further?"

The self-proclaimed pirate started chuckling. "**You'd think so, but no. I figured that you've been decent enough that you deserve to get out of here for a little bit.**" Before she could snap at him Acheron continued. "**Within reason of course, I'm not relinquishing my 'claim' on you any time soon.**" The man leaned in and tapped her forehead once, briefly overriding her conscious decision to not look at him. "**I think you and I both know why that is.**"

She fumed internally. This self-absorbed bastard assumed that, he was assuming that she was going to swoon for him like that blue whore Fay? Well he had better start thinking other things, because there was only so much raw arrogance she could tolerate from a man, and Acheron Killgore was past that limit by leaps and bounds. She'd sooner, the very thought almost made her gag, she'd sooner prostrate herself before that idiotic Monkey D. Luffy.

She took in a deep breath and raised her gaze once more, glaring straight on into the man's hypnotically beautiful, glowing, golden eyes. "And if I refuse?"

Acheron shrugged, smiling a sly smile. "**That would be your loss, and entirely your choice. But I think I just passed Queen Fay and she was eying one of our old drapes and-**"

She spat out an answer before the pirate could finish the implied threat. "Alright fine, I'll come along this time."

The black-skinned pirate nodded. "**Good. I'll be honest, that devil fruit of yours might prove useful, provided that I can allow you to use it.**" Before she could ask what he meant by that the golden-eyed man raised his right hand and snapped his fingers. "**Off we go, and keep your arms at your sides to keep them from getting sheared off. Just a precaution mind you.**"

The floor beneath her feet vanished, and the world around her changed from the alien but comprehendible Netherworld to an infinitely deep-black void. In this black, the only spot of color was the personage of Acheron, but his was far from a comforting presence. She tried twisting her body around to look below her, but this didn't alter her perception of her surroundings in the slightest.

Acheron's crass voice broke in. "**That's not a very smart move, just to let you know.**" There was again the sound of fingers snapping, and she found her face plowing full on into the wooden deck of a ship to her captors continued remonstrations. "**I tried to warn you, but you had to go on being stubborn.**" When she had corrected her posture and stood the black pirate again spoke. "**Just take a seat over there by Soul Calibur if you don't mind. I'll let you know if I need you for anything, other than as eye-candy that is.**"

Again, she was forced to think of Acheron as an overgrown boy as she complied. The sword that was mentioned was stuck in the deck over by the steps up to the helm, perched somewhat precariously against one of the railings, seemingly at the mercy of the next gust of wind.

As soon as she drew within four feet a female voice rang in her head, something she was completely unprepared for. "_Another member of our growing captive audience? Perfect, now you can see him act like an idiot along with me._"

After a few seconds of recovering her composure she turned around and sat down on the third step up. "If I had known I were in for a show I might've come along more readily."

The sword, which was the only sensible source of the voice, of course that varied depending on one's definition of sensible, snidely replied. "_Not that kind of show. Trust me, he won't be juggling or gamboling about like a street performer. It is a much more pathetic story than that._" The boat they were both on rocked violently and the sword wryly commented. "_And speak of the devil, the source of the idiocy decides to grace us with her presence._"

She turned her gaze towards the bow of the ship and was shocked to see that a giant mermaid had essentially appeared out of nowhere, large enough to easily dwarf the ship she was sitting on. Her first instinct was to turn about and flee, but at a second glance she realized that the new arrival was smiling a dopey little smile that could not possibly hold ill intent.

Settling back down on her impromptu seat she turned back towards her awkward conversation partner. "She doesn't seem half as bad as you made her sound, if I even knew who that was."

The sword made a sound that resembled a snort, how was beyond her, and replied. "_It's not her exactly, but more how she makes Acheron act._" The weapon's tone grew angrier, and just a little bit shrill. "_Just look at him up there, smiling and whispering gentle, sweet nothings to that air-headed bit-of-fluff. It makes me sick .I should just…_" Somehow, the blade managed to dislodge itself from its precarious post against the railing just enough to topple forward and clatter to a standstill on the deck not a foot away from where it had started. "_Ugh, sometimes I wonder why I even bother trying._"

A little amused by the sword's nonsensical antics she nonetheless looked towards the bow again to see if what the crystal weapon claimed to be there actually was or not. Now, based on her experience with the overgrown teenager she expected to see the mermaid staring at Acheron with star-struck eyes while the boy flashed a lewd smirk and caressed one cheek or the other, as fake and shallow as a scene could possibly get. What she actually saw was as far from her imagined scene as one could get, and essentially felt like a slap in the face to her mind.

Neither of the eyes in the equation were star-struck. This was probably due to the fact that the mermaid's eyes were closed and it looked like she was trying very hard to concentrate on something. As for Acheron, she couldn't hear any words but from the way his features were arrayed there could only be one damning conclusion, that the golden-eyed pirate was completely smitten. This made her inexplicably furious; after all she knew that her sex appeal was at least ten times higher than that huge mermaid. And not only did the boy not give her the attention she deserved; he was wasting it on something that the essence of innocent cuteness had vomited up.

She looked down towards the sword, still lying on the deck. "Now I think I get what you were talking about."

Again, the crystal weapon produced that scoffing sound. "_That is so touching, now do me a favor and pick me up. I can't see anything from this angle except the sails and sky, both really uninteresting._"

She scooted along the step to get within an arm's reach of the fallen blade, but as she started to stretch out her hand a crash off to her left drew her attention instead. Out of the door that lead to the interior cabins emerged a tall, lean man in a gray captain's coat with a grey beard. With a great yawn and a stretch the new arrival opened his eyes to take in the scene at the bow.

For one quiet moment the gray-bearded man stared before rubbing both of his eyes, doing a double take, and bellowing at the top of his lungs. "Holy fucking shit we're under attack!"

The mermaid at the bow gave a violent start, turning her gaze aft to see the freshly awakened pirate armed and pointing both sword and pistol at her. The reaction started small, just a quivering in the lower lip. But she, and probably everyone else on board, knew what was coming on well before the three seconds elapsed that preceded the crying fit. Acheron clearly was not amused, and was waving his hands frantically up at the bow, speaking rapidly words that she could not hear. Whatever the golden-eyed pirate's words were though, they apparently failed, because a low rumble that steadily grew louder and more severe built up as the giant mermaid continued to cry. Suddenly, off the starboard side of the ship, what at first seemed pillars of yellow and black erupted out of the water, but she knew what they were, any sailor that survived a single week on the seas knew what they were.

The grey pirate cried out the redundant name of the creatures, "Sea Kings!"

The forceful wave created by the violent upheaval of the beasts struck the ship, tilting it harshly to the port side. Most on board, essentially herself and the as-of-yet unidentified grey pirate were close enough to something sturdy to seize it and hold on for dear life. The crystal sword, it somehow managed to spear one of the spines on its side into the deck and hold fast that way. Acheron was not so lucky. The young man was caught out in the middle of the bow when the wave set the ship almost to capsizing, pitching the boy into, and then through, the port railing and off into the infinite ocean.

Somehow, the sword seemed to know what had happened, and screeched aloud with a voice as close to blind panic as any she had ever heard. "_No! He can't swim!_"

She glanced down at the frothing water as the ship teetered on the edge of falling back to normal or fully capsizing, her fingers aching already from holding up her own body weight. This was her chance to finally be rid of that self-absorbed jerk, all she had to do was let go and flee as fast as she could across the water. Although, she could just as easily save Acheron's life, diving down after him and bringing his body back to the surface before he drowned. The question was now whether she wanted to or not. On one hand, up until now he had treated her as nothing more than an object, a piece of art to luridly admire from a distance. But then, on the other she knew he had the capacity to be better, his treatment of the mermaid was evidence of that. And to be honest with herself, she didn't do all that much during their first meeting to make a good first impression, giving Acheron the sort of blatant dismissal that one would give to a servant. Either way, she had to let go of the railing first.

Grim Angel: Underwater

Acheron clawed at the water around him like a wild animal, cupping his hands and thrashing all the harder like he had seen the blue minions do whenever he sent them through water that was more than knee deep. But to no avail, his heavy frame and armor were dragging him deeper like a stone thrown in a well. In his mind he could scarcely believe that this was actually happening, that after all he had done, all of the effort he had put into life both here and back home, he was going to die because of a stupid accident all of his own design. He was going to drown, cold, alone, and almost completely unmissed in this world. As his lungs strained to bursting he tried again and again to open a portal back to the surface, to the Grim Angel, to anywhere, but nothing happened. He looked upwards, taking in the sight of the sunlight as it was scattered by the water that distanced him from breath, it was a beautiful sight. His lungs could bear it no more and his mouth opened on its own loosing his last gasp of air surfaceward…


	9. Jailbreaker

Chapter 9: Jailbreaker

Grim Angel: Open Ocean

Acheron Killgore felt something touching his chest, but the feeling was muffled more than it would be simply by his armor. The sensation would come, and then leave again, wait a few seconds and then return. It felt something like a tap, or something similar, but he could not tell exactly how long it lasted. Next there was a muffled sound, again indecipherable from the perspective of his hazy mind.

Without warning the slight sensation was replaced by a blow comparable to a hammer striking a blacksmith's anvil, so much so that he felt the deck crack beneath his body. His eyes snapped open and he started coughing, hacking up buckets of water and sucking in great gulps of air in equal measure. Someone pushed him onto his side, which made emptying his waterlogged lungs much easier.

When he had finally gathered enough wind to speak he rolled onto his back and looked up at the collection of faces present there, commenting on one in particular. "**Clayton, I really ought to punch your teeth in for that little stunt you pulled there.**"

The mentioned pirate flashed him a sarcastic grin. "Well, warn me next time you plan on having a giant mermaid floating off the bow of the ship. And especially warn me that she's the next incarnation of Poseidon, _and_ is intolerant of sharp language and actions."

He dragged himself into a sitting position, coughing up a few more mouthfuls of water as he did so. "**First, ok yeah, I probably should have warned you that she'd be there, but that would have involved me waking you up from your nap and having you grumping around the deck all day. Second, her name is Shirahoshi, not Poseidon, and it is generally bad advice to shout at any girl, let alone wave a sword about in their direction.**"

Clayton's head shook vigorously. "Not literally, I'm not an idiot. But Poseidon as in the reincarnation of the mermaid princess that can control the Sea Kings!" The former captain jabbed a thumb in a vague starboard direction. "Speaking of which, she doesn't seem to be doing that bad of a job now. Doesn't work that well under pressure, but by the time Sea Kings are swarming all over the enemy's ass's pressure isn't likely going to be there."

He glanced to the starboard side of the Grim Angel, long enough to notice that Shirahoshi was shyly peeking over the side with several serpentine Sea Kings obediently floating a few lengths further away. "**So, I should assume that one of those big snakes fished me out before I drowned?**"

The other pirate on board shook his head again. "Nah, that was the flouncy blonde over there that buggered off to pout the second you started coming back around. You're lucky as hell, you know that? Most, if not all, devil fruit users, including you apparently, can't swim for shit. But I guess the rules make an exception for a logia-class that lucked out and controls water itself."

He hooked his thumbs under the shoulder straps of his chest armor. "**Hey, if the best swimmer in the world was wearing this, they'd sink like a sack of bricks too. But I get your point.**"

Thinking back, though he did not like doing so, to the time moments before where he had almost drowned, one of the biggest mysteries to him was solved by this explanation. As a future note to himself, he was going to make a serious point of avoiding deep water, and especially to avoid entering it, at almost all costs. Sailing was going to still be a necessity of course, but he would now be hyper-alert about falling overboard. Now though, he had two things that he needed to accomplish.

He struggled to his feet, staggering over to where Shirahoshi eagerly lifter her head over the railing. "Are, are you ok? I would have never forgiven myself if I had caused you to die."

He forced a small chuckle, even if he didn't feel like it. "**I can breath, that's always a plus. And no, that was not a dig at the hug you gave me down at your tower, that was very nice, apart from the crushing of course.**" His left hand snaked out and rested reassuringly on one of Shirahoshi's knuckles. "**So, if you could, just follow this ship for a while. I have no idea where we're going, Clayton on the other hand, does. I may pop in and out from time to time, but for the most part I'll be right here if you need me.**"

With a small shift of his body weight he turned away from the mermaid princess, took two steps, paused, and came to a small revelation in his head. "**Son of a bitch, I really do like that girl.**" That realization prompted an even more pressing thought. "**Where the hell is she going to live?**" And of course, being who he was the next thought to occur to him was the next logical step. "**How am I supposed to tap that?**"

With a minor shudder, which everyone else would likely attribute to a chill from the water, he buried the idea temporarily. Long enough anyway to currently focus on the blonde woman that he was starting to see in a moderately new light.

He marched on over to Honey Queen, who was, as Clayton had mentioned, pouting while staring off into the distance. "**An inebriated bird whispered to me that I seem to owe you my life.**"

A loud sniff was the blonde's immediate answer, followed shortly by words. "Well that bird is right, and it was against my better judgment if I might say so."

He was completely shocked for the better half of a second; unaware that he could inspire that level of loathing, particularly in a woman. "**Wait, you don't actually mean that, right? I mean, I'm sure you're a bit pissed about the maid detail and all but, really?**"

Honey Queen scowled off into the distance, still refusing to look at him. "What do you think? Yes." A conflicted look flashed across her face. "I mean no." Her teeth were barred in anger. "I mean I don't know. But I do know that you are an insufferable asshole!"

He felt his eyes narrow. "**And yet you saved my life anyway, why?**"

The blonde's face flushed, he assumed from anger. "I, when I saw you doting on that idiot mermaid…" Shockingly, a single tear rolled down the side of Honey Queen's face. "I wanted that. I wanted your attention beyond being just a 'piece of booty.' It was infuriating to see you giving that so freely to someone else, on top of the humiliation of being a stupid maid."

He scratched the back on his neck, heavily uncomfortable with this outpouring of honesty. "**Ah, well I can say for sure right now that you are now permanently exempt from any further maid duties. Um, as for the rest of the issue, I got nothing. But, I guess if we could start over, then, ah, yeah. Maybe I could be less of an ass, and maybe you could try being less of a bitch.**"

Honey Queen let out one harsh laugh. "I suppose I am one at that, aren't I? A little bit of a holier-than-thou attitude?"

A lot more comfortable now that the mood was lighter, he confirmed the question. "**That sounds exactly right, even though you were stark naked during our first meeting.**"

The woman finally turned towards him, back arched, chest forward, smirking like a fiend. "And you were loving every second of it, don't lie."

He started chuckling, recalling his emotions quite clearly. "**I recall that it was downright torturous to watch your tits swinging around in the breeze, full knowing that I wasn't going to be allowed to touch from the second you opened your mouth.**"

Honey Queen smiled, though it was a bit of a sad smile, and nodded silently before speaking. "Well, what can I say? I was quite used to men worshipping me on sight by that point. Probably about as much as you are, or were, used to women doing the same to you."

He shot back immediately. "**Well, I don't think 'worship' is the word or phrase I would use. But they did tend to throw themselves at me.**"

The blonde shook her head slowly. "And there lies the other issue, I know right up front that I will never, and I think that is a standing fact, ever get you to myself. And I'll be damned, but I'm actually ok with that. Still, I think I'll feel a lot better about it when you take me to bed. Quaking the entire Netherworld during sex? I can't even begin to imagine how that'll feel."

He moved over to the railing and took his turn at gazing out over the water. "**Oh you'll get the chance to see that for yourself soon enough, just let me get Clayton to turn this tub around and get us headed for Impel Down. I've got a dwindling time-table on sacking this stupid jail.**" He sighed mightily before continuing."**I don't even care about whomever the hell we're supposed to be saving, but I'm doing it because I need a sea-faring army to topple the World Government.**"

Honey Queen commented at length. "Well, at least you're getting something out of the whole arrangement. And not just doing it out of the 'decency of your heart.' That would be far too heroic for you."

He shot the woman a sidelong glance. "**Yeah, no kidding.**" After a moment of silence a thought occurred to him. "**Hey, you've seen Soul Calibur right, where's she at?**"

His blonde companion pointed off towards the aft end of the ship, and he could see the crystal blade right away, glittering as she was in the sunlight. Upon approaching though he was mildly surprised to find the sword resting in a small puddle of water and as he watched another drop fell off of the length of the blade, adding to the small pool.

He blinked a few times before gathering the presence of mind to question the sword. "**Ah, are you ok? You seem to be leaking.**"

Soul Calibur sounded almost distraught, though her words said otherwise. "_Sure, just try not to get thrown overboard again anytime soon._"

He reached down and picked the sword up, slinging her over his back like always. "**Ok then, let's get Clayton on task and get this mess over with so I can go off on the World Government. Their payment is long overdue.**"

Grim Angel: Open Ocean: Three days later

Acheron glanced around at the deck of the Grim Angel, his ship, that was now crowded near to overflowing with random pirates he neither cared to meet, nor thought he would ever again. He would grant though, that they handled themselves with far more professional pride and dignity than anyone on Clayton's former crew. In particular, they didn't panic at the drop of a hat when there was the slightest threat to their lives. He supposed though, if it came down to the wire, he could make due with the crew he had. Impel Down was supposed to be tough, but he had been practically assured by Whitebeard that the assembled fleet could handle the World Government forces arrayed around the prison. It would be up to him, of course, to bust on in and stop the prison guards or wardens from executing Ace. He had been given a cursory description of the boy, but he had ignored it in favor of the plan he had in mind, that of tearing though the depths as fast as he could run so he could get back outside and kill more of the World Government forces himself.

Given what he had managed to do, specifically helping Shirahoshi come to terms with and master her powers, the battle should be a one-sided slaughter, one that he dearly wanted to take part in. These pirates were at least going to need to fear him if they were going to do his bidding when this prison was taken, and the penultimate way to do that was to personally take out a huge number of the enemy fleet.

He muttered to himself, under the routine cries from the ship hands. "**I'm almost done with this mess of servitude. After this, I'm back in charge.**"

He silently waited for the obligatory comment from his sword, but nothing came. This brought a mild frown to his hidden features as the silence stretched on, before he whipped the crystal blade off of his shoulder and barked at her. "**Hey! Are you listening to me?**"

After a full five heartbeats the sword finally answered. "_Huh? Oh, you were saying something to me?_"

He rolled his eyes mightily. "**Argh, that's exactly what I'm talking about. You're not listening, you've spoken so little over the past three days that I could've easily forgotten that you can talk, and, and…**" He let out a small hiss of frustration as he ran out of words. "**Look, did I do something to deserve the silent treatment? And if so, would you tell me what it was? It's getting kind of, well, lonely I guess.**"

Soul Calibur's eye flashed bright red for a second before the fountain of rage erupted. "_Lonely? Lonely! You call fooling around with those two harpies for the past three days lonely? You left me sitting on the mantle over your fireplace like a damn trophy for all but a few hours of those days! And then you wonder why I haven't been speaking to you? How completely stupid can you be?_" The red light vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. "_I'm, I'm sorry. I just don't like being treated like a simple object. You can understand that, right?_"

He wracked his brain for a moment where he had felt like that. "**You know, I think I do. That wizened thing back in the Netherworld, Gnarl, has, for my entire career, gone on about nothing but 'the Overlord this and the Overlord that' for as long as I can remember. I've only kept him around as long as I have because he keeps the minions in line well enough that Fay or someone else doesn't have to do it, which would be a complete and utter punishment in any regard.**" He shrugged and turned towards the aft end of the ship. "**In my defense though, I really don't think I could bring you to the bed with me. You'd shred the sheets and probably lop off a couple of flailing limbs in the heat of the moment.**"

The sword's eye flashed pink for half a second before returning to cool blue. "_You don't think you could try once anyway?_"

He was floored by the request, and not to mention stupidly unnerved. "**I'll, ah, get back to you on that.**"

Soul Calibur made a rather astute, if dejected, observation. "_You say that a lot when talking to me. Just so you know._"

His free had gesticulated wildly his confusion. "**Well, how the hell am I supposed to explain the concept of lesbian women to you; or the practicality of, well, what you just asked. You're missing, I guess, the proper physical parts to understand.**"

A shadow fell across him and a completely innocent voice broke in on the conversation. "Lack the parts to understand what?"

He stared up at Shirahoshi with his mouth hanging open for a full five seconds before he slapped Soul Calibur right back onto his back before he spoke. "**Ah, never you mind that little conversation. It has no bearing on anything important right now.**" He muttered a silent mental apology to the sword before he went on. "**You remembered what we talked about, right? Just get the Sea Kings out of our way and keep yourself safe?**"

The giant mermaid nodded obediently and sank into the ocean up to her nose, looking after him as the ship moved closer to the prison with sad, puppy-dog eyes that simultaneously made him want to make the trademark "aww" because it was so cute, and roar out of frustration as to why he was interested.

Soul Calibur clearly was not angry enough at him to maintain silence at this point. "_Was I right, or was I right?_"

He flatly glared over his shoulder at the sword. "**Ok fine, you were right, I like Shirahoshi for no real reason that I can think of.**"

Before the sword could answer, even if he assumed that she was going to respond, Clayton clomped up behind him and broke in. "Aye, lead-foot, we're ready to get things started. You're needed up front."

He did start to follow, but not without giving the pirate a piece of his mind. "**You do realize that I can fling you off into the sea with a snap of my fingers or less. Are you sure you're doing the smart thing by mocking me?**"

Clayton turned only his head around, a weary look slapped there. "Look, I just don't give a shit anymore. I'm sick of taking your crap, so you're doing this or you can just kill me here and now."

In spite of the utter defiance, he found himself smirking. "**That takes some serious balls, talking to me like that.**" He glanced towards the bow of the Grim Angel, deciding to let the matter drop at that. "**So, what exactly is this brilliant idea you have to get me into the prison?**"

The pirate smiled the kind of smile that inspired nightmares in most people, and backed up to the starboard railing. "Just a little something I used from time, something I might have forgotten to mention when I gave you a miniature tour of this ship." Without warning, the deck beneath his feet split open, dropping him into a cylindrical metal object that pinched his feet together painfully. The former captain looked down at him, rocking the exact same grin. "A little ambush tool I like to call, the man-cannon."

He struggled to free his arms from his sides, momentarily forgetting about his devil fruit as he roared at the pirate. "**Clayton, don't you dare shoot me out of this damn can-**"

Too late, the charge blew and flung him upwards into the air at a speed that would have made him vomit up everything he had ever eaten, provided that his stomach hadn't been left behind in the barrel of the cannon. He reached the top of the arc on the shot, pausing in the air like a feather on the breeze before the ensuing plummet caused him to start screaming again like; he was ashamed to think this, a little girl. As he fell towards the courtyard of Impel Down he realized that he had two options; one, splatter to pieces against the flagstones like an idiot, or two, or ghost through the structure until he hit the water on the other side and drowned. That was of course, if he didn't think of something clever with his devil fruit, and fast.

Mentally crossing his fingers he threw a portal out ahead of him, where he thought he was projected to land, and one slightly further on. He entered the first and shot out of the second headed straight back up, but he was slowing down and that was the important part. Again, at the top of the arc he cast another portal, this one down on the flagstones of the courtyard and he popped through and came to a complete stop, without a scratch on him.

He smiled to himself, swinging both his shoulders and hips to an imaginary beat. "**Who's number one? I am!**"

He snapped his fingers once and closed each of the portals smirking as he strode quickly for the giant door he assumed would lead him deeper into the prison. But as his hand fell upon the handle something stopped him, he heard a sound that was steadily growing louder. Turning back towards the sound rewarded him with nothing, but when he looked up he had just enough time to visually follow the body of the blonde haired woman before she was splattered into bloody little pieces against the flagstones. This turned his stomach slightly, but only because it was showing him a fate which could have been his moments sooner.

He looked skyward, curious as to where the woman had come from. "**Now how did…**" He snapped his fingers as he figured it out. "**Right, I must have snagged her by accident when I was getting down from up there. She got shot out up there, and fell all that way when I closed the portals. I'd feel bad, but then I don't know if she was cute or not. Oh well, shit happens.**" He turned around and bolted for the door, bashing it down with his shoulder for style points instead of just ghosting through.

Impel Down: Level 1

Acheron lightly jogged down out of the supposed "welcome center" of the prison, whistling a light tune and flicking the blood of the last guard stupid enough to get in his way off of his gauntlets. Really, these World Government grunts seemed little better than the original crew of the Grim Angel, each and every one of them skittish and prone to panic. Then again, that could have just been his domineering personality and badass blade, but who really cared?

He lifted his gaze to the room ahead of him and let put a louder whistle as he beheld something he did not expect. "**Whoa, a forest inside of a prison, go figure. Though far from the nuttiest thing I've ever seen.**" He heard a sound off to his right and spoke up when he saw a man running through the trees in his general direction. "**Hey! I'm trying to get down to level six, which way is that?**"

The frenzied look on the prisoner's face did not leave their mental state in much question. "Can't talk, too busy, must run, faster, away from sharp objects."

Within seconds it became apparent for the prisoner's loose sanity; simply brushing one of the leaves on the red trees shredded the arm of the running man and splashed a fresh coat of crimson on the ground and tree. To complicate matters further, what looked like a giant spider was bounding over the blades of grass, and he wondered for a second if "blades" of grass was quite literal here, and egging the tortured prisoner onwards.

He shook his head lightly. "**Bladed trees, what kind of sick mind comes up with that shit?**" A rustle drew his attention to his left, where another of the giant spiders was now attempting to chase him. "**Ok, fuck no, I'm not in the mood to play any of your games here.**"

Stepping forward to meet the charge he brought his right boot down on the spider's thorax just as it hit the ground but before it could bound forward again. Following up on that, he raised his right hand and cast Evil Presence on the thing, counting to three before releasing the spell and stepping back from his new minion.

He waited a full two seconds to be sure he had cast the spell long enough, then gave his thrall its first order. "**Take me down to level two, on the double.**"

Impel Down: Level 2

Acheron jumped down from the first level after his spider thrall, absorbing the impact with his knees before standing and looking around. The dark, dreary stone walls around him stank of hairy animals, particularly wet ones. The light in here was minimal, but currently he could see just from the crackling of the blue lightning around the head of his thrall.

Attempting the same trick just for the hell of it he gave a simple order to the spider. "**Bring me to level three.**"

The spider froze, skittering around in place, a clear sign that it couldn't accomplish the task because it didn't know where to go itself. Clearly then, his arachnid slave was now useless except as a night light and he amended the order to a simple "follow me."

On the topic of following, he simply was following his intuition when it came to his choice in passageways. Left, right, it was all the same to him. But it was the sounds off in the distance that were intriguing to him, what he could assume were animal noises that sent a shiver down his spine despite his self-assuredness in his power. Without warning a scream rang out from his immediate right, one of the many dark passages he had passed that initially seemed no different from each other. This one though, the floor was littered with bones that clattered away when his boots kicked against them. Clearly the lair of some huge predator, and he supposed that that was a promising sign, because if this prison had any logical pattern then the biggest monster would be situated between him and the exit.

He readied Soul Calibur, bracing himself to charge forward and bisect whatever was in his way. "**This monster is going to meet a real one, aka, me.**"

The sword was silent for a second, and then commented. "_Ok, seriously? That was the cheesiest line I've ever heard. Way worse than any of the one-liners your…_" She stopped before he could correct her. "_Never mind, I know you don't like being compared to him, sorry._"

He grabbed hold of his spider thrall, ignoring the snide remark, and threw it forward, letting its weak light illuminate the massive beast in front of him. It was at least a hundred times his size, mostly in mass, and slate grey all over. Feathers the color of ash covered its front legs, which was the only half of the creature he could see. Its face looked moderately human, but if it had any human intelligence it would have gotten the hell out of his way when he started whipping Soul Calibur through the air.

He stepped forward, running his mouth as he went and making a wisecrack about the feathers. "**Ok Polly, you asked for it.**"

The beast shuffled around to face him, amazingly opening its mouth and repeating part of what he had said. "Asked for it."

The animal swung a massive paw at him, though its movement was laughably sluggish compared to other things he had fought. He swung his crystal weapon at the approaching limb, cutting through about three feet of flesh but not severing the appendage, that would require one more cut. The creature bellowed with agony and mindlessly lashed out, which would have been painfully easy to avoid even if he weren't in possession of a devil fruit that made him incorporeal when under attack. He leaped for the thing's face, driving Soul Calibur deep into the beast's forehead, killing it instantly.

He pulled the sword out of the animal and flicked the blood off. "**What was that you said about the line being cheesy? Because either way it was completely true.**" When he didn't receive a response he nodded and pushed by the carcass of his most recent kill. "**That's what I thought.**"

Impel Down: Level 3

Acheron took three steps away from the bottom of the stairs leading to Level three of Impel Down and staggered back half a step out of surprise. First a bloody forest, then essentially a cave, and now a desert? Even if the place was going to be a pain in the ass because of the heat he had to give credit to whoever designed the place, they sure had a killer sense of imagination.

Something ashen colored crawled towards him, and it was only when said object spoke that he realized that it was a person. "Water, please, I'll do anything…"

Not exactly prone to carrying a canteen he shrugged sheepishly. "**Ah, sorry, I don't have any.**"

The prisoner let out a light groan and fell flat against the sand, for all appearances looking quite dead. As he looked around further he started to pick out other patches of grey in the area that looked similar, and if all of them were people in the same condition as the poor soul in front of him then some warden needed to get his ass kicked.

Soul Calibur, as usual, felt his emotions. "_This makes you angry? I, hadn't expected you to care._"

He responded while wading through the bodies, unable to tell which were alive or dead. "**Look, that forest of bladed trees was sick, but I can grant a little bit that some people deserve that kind of inventiveness when it comes to their pain. The last floor was just people in cages hunted by wild animals, pretty good security for most people. This is just stupid cruel, because these people have to watch themselves waste away until a stiff breeze could scatter them like the dust they look like. I'd never subject anyone to this crap.**" After a moment he amended his statement. "**Ok, maybe I already have once. But that priestess was a walking ball of lard anyway, she could have stood to do a little 'wasting away' so she could actually move without magical aid.**"

A heavy thud rumbled through the floor beneath his feet and started to occur rhythmically, as it would when someone very large was walking. He jokingly remarked; "**Well, I guess someone down here has been eating well.**"

Around a corner up ahead, a creature emerged, one at least three times his height and probably many more times his weight, armor included. It essentially looked like a blue ball with arms and feet. Arms which held appropriately large weapons, but he doubted very much that any of those blades were going to do him any harm. Unnervingly though, there was nothing but a skull image where the animal's face should have been. No eyes, and yet the skull image turned left and right as if searching. No mouth, and yet low rumbling growls arced his way as it "saw" him. He unlimbered Soul Calibur and rushed at the monster before it could bring its battle axe to bear, kicking through a few dusty corpses along the way.

He skidded to a stop and swung, laying open a huge section of the animals flesh. "**And it's a grand slam!**"

The creature toppled forward, letting out one last bellow before expiring. In response, somewhere ahead he heard a flute start up, and immediately the roars of more beasts like the one he had just killed shook the stone beneath his feet. Clearly, these animals were being manipulated by the flute-player in a demented twist on the pied piper story he had heard as a little boy. So, if he silenced the player perhaps the monsters would just leave him alone. Granted they were harmless to him, but on the way back out they might kill that kid he was supposed to be saving, and he had vested too much into this stupid venture to fail because of some idiot with a flute.

He took off in pursuit of the sound, noticing as he did that the level he was on was constructed in a circular fashion, so he would find the flutist somewhere along the edge. The giant blue animals did try to get in his way, but again, they couldn't stand up against Soul Calibur's insane cutting power backed by his muscle. Almost immediately the music swelled to its apex, and started to fade as he kept moving. He stopped; confused for a moment because he was absolutely sure he had not seen anyone. He turned around and looked up, finding his curiosity rewarded by the sight of a small, winged, white robed imp fluttering over the heads of the blue creatures as they chased after him.

Smirking, he opened a wide portal directly in front of him and one directly behind the floating imp. He waited a few seconds, just long enough for the imp to turn around and notice the miniscule distance between them, before lashing out and decapitating the little thing, which probably removed most of the burden on its tiny wings.

He chuckled as the blue beasts wandered aimlessly away from him. "**Your bard services are no longer needed or wanted, go to hell.**"

Impel Down: Level 4

Acheron dropped down to the floor via portal and stared around him at the, truly, hellish construction of this prison. This one was circular again, but this time there was a giant pot of boiling, eh, something right in the middle. Given the right light that liquid could probably look like anything but, he had the disgusting thought that the pot was filled to the brim with blood. If it was, he had to wonder exactly how many people they had to have drained dry before that thing was full, even half-full.

He shook his head for a second to make sure he was actually seeing it, but the image remained. "**Son of a bitch, you'd think these people got off on torture. Even if though, when does it end?**"

Soul Calibur continued her recent trend of not responding, and he continued to find that unnerving, but he stood and started out across what seemed to be a large stone bridge over one side of the giant blood pot, if he was right about the contents. The smell alone was enough to knock out a full grown yeti. As he neared the other side of the bridge he started to notice something standing in the arch he was headed towards. The shadows and the haze effect caused by the intense heat made it hard to tell, but he thought he was looking at a person. The figure moved, and something long lashed out at him and made a resounding clack against his chest plate.

First, he was stunned that the blow had hit him at all considering his devil fruit powers. Second, he identified the weapon that struck him as a whip. Third, the one holding the whip was a gorgeous woman in the sexiest devil outfit he had ever seen. And lest, that the whip would fucking hurt if it his bare skin.

The woman, a blonde whose hair was long enough to cover her eyes and billow out like a flaxen cloud, grinned and coiled the whip up again. "Ooh, did that, mmmm, hurt precious? Too bad I've been ordered to kill you. It would've been so much fun to make you beg."

He pulled Soul Calibur off of his back, now genuinely angry. "**Look lady, I really don't have time for this. And up until now in my life I've tried to make a point out of not hitting girls when I can avoid it. Don't make me break that rule.**"

The woman drew her arm back anyway, raising the handle of her whip high. "You're, mmmm, not going to be the one doing the hitting. Kneel before me, Sadi-chan!"

He was going to assume that the last outburst was the blonde's name, however much that mattered right now. The whip sped forward again, and this time he was prepared to move out of the way like he should have for the first one. The weapon cracked against the floor next to him, striking with such apparent force that it left behind a large spider-web crack that slowly expanded to the size of his bed back in the Netherworld. Ergo, that chick had one hell of an arm on her. He could admire that, and the revealing pink outfit, and the extremely kinky noise she was making when she almost scored a hit. But what he was not going to tolerate or admire was the idea Sadi-chan seemed to have in her head about bringing him to heel like some kind of dog. He was going to disabuse her of that notion, just as soon as he got past the damn whip. His right foot stepped on one of the many new cracks in the floor and caught in it, making him unable to fully evade the next lash. It struck him just above the left side of his hip, right on the inch or so of exposed black flesh.

He slapped at the welt, bellowing in pain. "**Son of a fucking bitch, that hurt! I'm going to beat you so bad that your momma's going to feel it in whatever dirty pit they stuck her corpse in!**"

Sadi-chan contorted in an almost sexual manner before speaking. "The first blow has been struck, the first of many! If you beg me to stop, I just might."

He flatly glared at the pink attired blond. "**Like hell I'll believe that, or beg.**"

Time seemed to slow down as he stood, bent over, with his hand on his throbbing hip, watching the whip rise for another strike. But in a moment of pain-induced lucidity he saw his perfect opportunity to strike. Just so long as his devil fruit powers were still with him, and hadn't suddenly evaporated at the worst possible time. Just as Sadi-chan started to bring her arm down to fling the whip forward he focused his will directly beneath his feet. To his delight, he felt the cold embrace of the void for just as long as he needed, just long enough for his instantaneous transition from whip range to fist range. He dropped out of the portal less than a hand span away from the woman's back, reaching out and grabbing hold of both of Sadi-chan's limbs before she could turn around or jump away.

As the woman thrashed in his grip he barred his teeth, snarling out his next words. "**Well, if you hadn't decided to be such a psychotic bitch I wouldn't be manhandling you. Now fork over that damned whip!**"

It went without saying that Sadi-chan didn't want to give the weapon up, which resulted in a pitched wrestling match that could only end the way it did, with him pinning the sadistic blonde to the floor with both the weight of his body and the stolen whip stretched across her throat and both wrists. The position was kinky as all hell, but for once he was only aware of that in the back of his head.

He slowly stood, taking care to pin the blonde down with his boot before releasing his stranglehold. "**Ok now, this is how things are **_**really**_** going to work out. You're going to lead me right to your boss, he hand I are going to have a brief chat, I am going to cut him in half, and then you will take me straight to a certain prisoner before I leave. I'm not going to bother explaining myself again, so get that into your thick skull.**" He lifted his foot and gesticulated for Sadi-chan to get up. "**Now move your ass, or I'll whip you with your own whip.**"

The sadist started to object. "What? No, my life is about dominating others, this is humiliating-"

He flicked his wrist forward, sending the lash out and cracking it within an inch from the woman's pink wrapped thigh. "**Maybe it is, for you. But it would be even more humiliating to walk away from this covered in angry red welts, which will happen unless you do exactly as I said, so get walking.**"

Sadi-chan did start to obey, walking towards the same end of the bridge he had originally been headed towards, but she was whining the whole time. "How dare you do this to me, I should be the one holding that whip, you're going to be sorry…" Etcetera.

Letting out an angry sigh, he raised his arm and sent the whip out, planting the end of the lash on Sadi-chan's right ass cheek with such force that he actually split the pink leather. "**Would you just shut up for five seconds? I've heard enough bitching from the other pirates over the past few days, and taken enough shit today, that my patience is wearing dangerously thin.**"

Sadi-chan fell forward due to the blow, which concerned him momentarily because he had not meant to hit her that hard. The woman lay sprawled before him, seemingly shocked that he had done what he had threatened to do and used her own whip on her. A few seconds passed before the blonde brought her arms around and beneath her, appearing to struggle a great deal just get up halfway. And, just to seemingly kick him in the shin, he caught a split second glance at one of Sadi-chan's watery, baby blue eyes as she looked back at him with fear etched into every muscle of her face.

He brought his free hand up to his face and rubbed at his forehead, a tiny wave of emotional weariness washing over him. "**Ok look, I'm not going to hit you again. Here, I'm tossing the whip over the edge.**" He did exactly what he said and threw the bundled whip off the left side of the stone span. "**I'm sorry, just point me at your boss and I'll leave you be.**"

Sadi-chan was quiet for a long time, and then she pointed at a dark stone archway off to the far left of the chamber. "Just follow that to the kitchen. Warden Magellan's office is right next door. There's a, lift inside that you can take to wherever you're trying to go."

He muttered to himself. "**Well that would have been useful, had I known about it.**" He took three steps and knelt down in front of the half-prone woman. "**Hey, thanks. If I ever drop by again try not going after me with that whip and we can avoid this situation again.**"

The devilish blond reached up and grabbed the top of his chest plate before pulling him down, close enough to her face that he could see her blue eyes behind the cloud of her hair, just before she hissed at him. "I didn't want to whip you, I wanted to get off. The pain was just a means to an end."

He filed that information away in the back of his head as he brought his hands up to push the crazy, devilish woman away. Inadvertently, he wound up groping one of Sadi-chan's breasts in the process. "**Whoa, down girl, not the best time for that!**" The blonde pounced on him anyway, tackling him to the floor with surprising speed and started to claw at his armor as if she thought she could pull it off with sheer effort. He let out a mighty sigh, "**Oh, fuck it.**" With one deft movement he flipped over and put Sadi-chan on the floor instead. "**Lady, lesson number one with me is quite simple, I never go on the bottom.**"

Impel Down: Warden's Office

Magellan, chief warden of Impel Down prison, shifted uneasily on his feet while he eyed the malfunctioning den den mushi on the wall. It had been at least an hour since he had sent Sadi-chan to kill that intruder, so why hadn't he heard anything? If she had killed the interloper then she would be back by now, and if she had failed prison level five would have reported the intrusion, but there had been nothing. The remaining guards were getting nervous, and were liable to outright panic if something didn't change soon.

Still, he thought to himself, bad enough they had been invaded in the first place. When the World Nobles demanded a report he was going to get essentially crucified even if not a single damn thing was his fault, that was the way things were going to turn out, and he'd be lucky to just get demoted. Although he could perhaps shunt some blame onto the Navy commanders that were no longer around to defend themselves. Yes, after all he was only in command of a prison designed to keep people _in_ not keep people out. Better still if he dealt with the interloper personally too, then when the full force of the Navy arrived he could present their head on a spike to the Marines.

Nodding gravely, he turned towards the door but stopped in shock when a loud crash and shattering of glass echoed through his office. Screams and wild gunfire started only heartbeats later, accompanied by an unnaturally high pitched cutting noise he had to assume was some kind of sword. As he reached for the door knob to intervene said gateway burst inwards towards him, sending flying chunks of glass towards his face and causing him to stagger back a step or two to protect his eyes.

He recovered and refocused just in time to see the dark armored figure flying through the air towards him, black crystal weapon primed for the killing stroke while the hidden mouth bellowed, "**Lights out mother fucker!**" The bite of the blade on his neck felt bitterly cold, and he was dimly aware that his head was flying away. The last, and rather ironic thing he saw before his world went black, was the soul-piercing gaze of a pair of golden eyes set in a hellish face of deepest ebony.


	10. Sea Snake

Chapter 10: Sea Snake

Impel Down: Courtyard

Acheron Killgore strolled right on up to the double doors he had rammed through on the way into Impel Down, dragging Ace by the scruff of the neck, and essentially dragging Sadi-chan with his other arm. The crazy blonde had practically hung there since the epic bloodbath that occurred in the office of the former warden of the prison, the now decapitated Magellan. Apparently, and this went along with the symphony of sounds that the psycho had made, so much blood and pain being unleashed around her had been too much. Sadi-chan had practically climaxed into unconsciousness just by being there.

Speaking of the pink clothed super-sadist, he lifted his arm high enough so Sadi-chan's heeled feet were actually flat on the ground. "**Hey, wake up toots, time to part ways.**"

The blond empathetically squeezed his arm tighter, whining loudly. "Never, mmmm, you're way too _good_ to let go of!"

He sighed internally, until a particularly Evil idea popped into his head and brought a malevolent smile to his hidden face. "**Tell you what, Sadi, how'd you like to get to beat the snot out of an entire Empire?**"

The blonde sprang up, still maintaining a death grip on his arm, smiling gleefully and practically bouncing. "Really? Where, what Empire?"

He dropped Ace's unconscious body to the floor and waved his arm to construct a portal to the Empire Heartlands. "**You want to stick around, fine. I'd just like you to beat the peasants around for a little while so I can talk to the other pirates.**" With barely time for him to speak another word, Sadi-chan finally released his poor limb and planted a messy kiss high on his right cheek before essentially diving through the opened portal. He shouted after the psycho. "**Just try to leave most of them alive!**"

Disappearing rapidly into the hazy distance, Sadi-chan simply threw him a backwards wave as her cloud of blonde hair vanished over a hill. After a second of idle deliberation he stuck his head through the portal as well, curious as to how quickly the half-subdued dominatrix would get to work on his annoying subjects. He didn't wait long until the first scream was heard, along with a smack sound loud enough that it reverberated through the hills and inside his ears. Considering that he had felt the end of Sadi-chan's whip arm personally, he almost felt a twinge of sympathy for his unfortunate subjugated subjects, but then he remembered how much bother he had gone through to conquer the blasted place and his sympathy evaporated like a drop of water of a blade fresh out of the forge.

He withdrew his head and closed the portal with a snap of his fingers. "**Enjoy yourself, you crazy, sexy, bitch.**" A loud groan drew his attention down to the writhing body of Ace. "**Oh shut up you, I knocked you out so I wouldn't have to listen to you bitch, and I'll do it again.**" True to his word, he knelt down and brought his knuckles down hard on the same spot he had used before, a spot dead center of the young boy's head.

Once again, he leaned down and picked Ace up by the scruff of his neck, noticing as he did so that the kid looked disturbingly similar to that Luffy kid that he'd killed so long ago. Ultimately though, he decided it was a coincidence and kicked open the door into the brighter light of the evening sun, something he was quite relieved to see after spending so much time in the dingy prison behind him now.

Kicking open the door, he was presented with the pair of both Clayton and Whitebeard, whom he had at length learned was actually named Edward Newgate. It was a piece of knowledge he planned to use today, primarily because he felt using "Edward" would annoy the elder pirate.

He felt himself smiling as he roughly tossed Ace's slumbering form forward to the pair. "**Clayton, Eddy, I think you'll find that your precious Ace is in near perfect health, aside from being out cold that is.**"

Whitebeard raised an eyebrow, but did not overtly react otherwise. "Thank you; our ships have sunk every World Government vessel within sight with the aid of your friend Shirahoshi. Ace still being alive was almost too much to hope for."

He shrugged, still grinning at the relatively petty reward of irritating the old pirate. "**Well, I delivered my end of the bargain as I said I would. The better question is, are you going to hold up your end and devote the fleet to bringing down the Government that imprisoned the kid in the first place?**"

Newgate nodded again, irritation much less apparent now that Ace was in the clear. "Aye, I'm a man of my word. We'll mass our ships here until you give the order to sail on Mariejois."

His smile grew, enough that his teeth could have started glittering in the light if his face weren't hidden inside his helmet. "**Sweet, any last minute advice?**"

Clayton answered that question. "Well, you could appeal to the Shichibukai and try to get us an easier route into the blasted place. Each of them can just waltz in without so much as a raised eyebrow. Heck you could even pose as if they had captured you and were bringing you in to face what passes for justice in their idiotic world."

He suppressed a yawn. "**And why would I want to bother with that crap when I can just walk right on in anyway?**"

The metal pirate scowled at him. "For one thing, it'll keep the rest of us from dying by the shipload."

He gave a wanton shrug. "**I'll tell you, I honestly did not consider that. Next?**"

Clayton's scowl morphed into a sardonic smirk. "Oh this next one is probably the only reason I can get you to care about. The Shichibukai Boa Hancock is widely considered to be the most beautiful woman in the entire world."

Considering his boundless libido, the grey-haired man was probably right, but he wasn't about to give up the argument that easily. "**Well that's a pretty subjective title isn't it? After all what is considered beautiful by one person could be seen as horrifically ugly by another.**"

The former captain's eyebrows fell, turning his expression into a dark glare. "Trust me; I've seen your taste in wenches. I swear you'll find her just as fetching as any other pirate on the sea."

He chuckled, a Cheshire-cat smile spreading across his face. "**Well when you put it that way, I guess we can spare the time. It'll give you some time to consolidate the ships you've still got, take care of the wounded, etcetera.**" He gestured out to the Grim Angel. "**You have a dinghy to get us back out to the ship? Or are we going to have to use that fucking man-cannon again?**"

Clayton took a few steps and lightly kicked a rough dinghy. "Oh, you'll get to use it again I assure you. It's probably the only way you're going to find your way to the snake lady, though I'll tell you why later."

He took the unspoken invitation and crossed the courtyard to the little boat. "**By 'snake lady' I really hope you aren't implying that she has scales, because if you are we can abandon this little venture right now.**"

The veteran pirate pushed the dinghy off and hopped in before it cleared the small pier. "No no, she's just the Kuja empress, and all of those people have snakes." After a brief pause Clayton added, "Mind your head."

Like a class idiot he turned around and looked instead of simply doing as he was told and ducking. This action led to him getting whacked in the face by the swinging yardarm of the tiny sail, right on the nose, and falling flat on his back in the tiny boat.

Clayton understandably started to chuckle at this. "Heh, what happened to that fancy intangible trick you've been abusing since you picked up that fruit of yours? Did you run out of juice all of a sudden?"

He sat up and waved his arm through the little mast to prove otherwise. "**Nah, happened down in Impel Down too, no reason that I can figure out.**"

The pilot of the dinghy trained a canny eye upon him. "One that you can't figure out, or one that you just don't want to share?"

He fell silent for a long while as the dinghy kept on out to sea. This presented a bit of a problem for him, because if his creeping suspicion were correct he might just reveal a weakness in himself that other people, namely the gray haired pirate that was sailing him back out to the ship that formerly belonged to the very same person, would attempt to capitalize on. That latent resentment, which he knew to be there, was the exact reason he hesitated to share his thoughts. Although how someone would actually act upon his assumption was another mindboggling issue entirely.

He lied, deciding to ultimately err on the side of caution. "**As I said, no reason that I can figure out.**"

Clayton nodded his head slowly, voice conveying his complete lack of belief. "Uh huh, sure there isn't."

Soul Calibur whispered in his head, a truly useless gesture if he thought about it. "_So, do you actually have an idea why that psycho hit you? Because, I think our pirate friend thinks that you do._"

He responded in the same manner, though not bothering to lower the volume of his internal voice. "**Don't know if you were paying attention before things got to the sticky, kinky part of that encounter, but Sadi-chan specifically said she wasn't trying to whip me to cause me harm. She was trying to get off on my pain.**"

There was a silence as he climbed up onto the deck of the Grim Angel before the sword spoke again. "_Um, I don't get it. What's the difference?_"

He wandered off towards the stern, assuming that Clayton would automatically start turning the ship towards the "Kuja" women. "**The difference, at least so far as I'm thinking about it, is that she had no truly hostile intentions towards me. Just like that yardarm on the dinghy, it is incapable of malice towards anything or anyone.**" He paused for a brief moment as one of the new deckhands passed by despite the fact that it was impossible for them to overhear. "**I know it's a pretty damn flimsy idea, and an insanely illogical loophole to guard against, but that's the best I can come up with.**"

He half expected the crystal sword to come back with a snarky comment as she often did, but nothing was forthcoming. It was getting to the point now that he was starting to feel just a little bit angry about the silence. As utterly infuriating as Soul Calibur's commentary and jabs could be it was a reminder that he was never alone no matter where he was standing. Even if his home was only a step away with the use of his devil fruit, it was comforting to have that extra set of eyes, or rather, eye watching out for him. He glanced back at the glowing eye of the sword, noting that the glow was both a much deeper shade of blue than usual and the light itself was fairly dim. What that meant he hadn't the foggiest idea. With a tired sigh he turned around and took a seat on the aft railing of the Grim Angel, legs dangling off over the sea as the ship sailed off to a journey he was starting to regret already.

Grim Angel: Amazon Lily

Acheron leveled a silent and steady glare at the island off in the distance, just at the outer edge of the man-cannon's range, or so Clayton claimed. He was inclined to mentally subtract a few dozen yards just to account for the former captain's self-promotion. He knew, because it was exactly what he would have done if showing off a favorite toy of his.

Funny story though, apparently men were not allowed on the island, period, hence why he was going to get shot onto the island in the dark. This of course made his job a bit harder, considering that most people who snuck around in the dark were assassins or thieves. Boa Hancock might well be inclined to believe him to be one of those two when he arrived, but he hoped he could work his way past that. More so if Clayton's extremely vague descriptions of the woman were accurate. One thing bothered him though, he had no idea where he was going when he touched down on the faraway sands. He was going to have to run the gauntlet of stealth essentially blind. There were certain assumptions he could make, like how he should focus on the large buildings if he wanted to find this Snake Princess, but otherwise he could get caught out at the slightest slip up.

Clayton sauntered up to him, face illuminated by the light of a small torch. "You ready for this? Because the clouds are covering the moon and there's enough ambient noise out there to muffle the blast of the man-cannon, can't get a better time."

He shifted the target of his glare from the island to the former captain. "**I'm ready, but I think you're enjoying shooting me out of that accursed thing far too much.**"

The pirate's face twisted into a sneer. "I just might, since I heard you screaming when I shot you out of it before. And I've got to get my digs in where I can, especially since you seem set on the fast track to endless glory."

He stepped forward onto the lip of the cannon. "**So nice to have your vote of confidence.**" With a deep breath he took one last step and dropped down inside the metal tube. "**Enjoy it while it lasts you son of a bitch.**"

The light snick of a fuse being lit was the immediate answer, before Clayton shot back. "Took the words right out of my mouth." A scant second before the blast was too come, there was one last snipe. "Speaking of mothers, you pegged mine perfectly."

As he had braced himself this time, he maintained as much dignity as one could being shot out of a cannon, chiefly, the dignity of not screaming like a little girl. Still though, he was dizzied beyond rational belief as he flew up, faster this time for some reason, through the non-black of the night. As he had predicted though, he started to fall well before he would land on the sand. This time though, he knew what to do and opened a portal just before he would hit the water. Shooting up again, at a much flatter angle, he twisted himself in the air so as to sail feet first and struck the sands to skid to a halt eventually when he struck a large rock. Fortunately for him, through some stroke of good fortune, he found himself in a dark thicket as a pair of women passed by, presumably guards.

He stole away from the cover of the thicket, silently cursing his glowing eyes for the first time in his entire life. A normal person could stand in a pool of absolute black and be completely hidden, while he would be given away by the shining amber gems set in his face. His only recourse was to shield his eyes with his hand, a stunning reversal of what was normal. People usually shielded their eyes with darkness to keep light out, now he was shrouding his eyes to keep light out of the darkness. Worse still, Soul Calibur's glowing eye on his back would be visible from huge distances away. It was only now that he considered the recent dimness as an asset.

As if that thought were a trigger, Soul Calibur suddenly screamed aloud at the top of her figurative lungs. "_I figured it out! I finally think I've figured it-_"

He ripped the crystal blade off of his back, whispering and shouting at the sword simultaneously. "**What the hell are you doing? Are you trying to fuck everything up around here, because so far you're doing a damn good-**"

Like the first time he ever touched the sword, arcs of black lightning leapt from her eye and struck him in the center of his forehead, perfectly threading the narrow gap in his helmet.

Astral Plain: Heart of Soul Calibur

Acheron whirled about as he suddenly found himself back inside the sword when she had tried to possess him immediately upon claiming her. The crystalline area looked largely the same, though the platform he was standing on this time was completely black. He supposed that this was due to his previous efforts to "purify" the corruption of the sword. A light drew his attention out of the corner of his right eye, pulling his gaze to a figure identical to the one he had fought for dominance in every respect except that this one was not armed, at least at the moment.

He felt a snarl twist his mouth. "**So, what's the big idea this time? What is so world-shattering that you felt compelled to possibly ruin the little assignment that I've picked up?**"

The sexually ambiguous figure spoke with the voice of his sword, with at least a shred of the fire he had come to expect and look forward to from the weapon. "_Assignment? That's what you want to call this? An infiltration that you consider to be almost exclusively for the purpose of slinging another woman to your bed._" Soul Calibur's voice petered out, but she still clearly had something to say. "_I, I rehearsed this so many times and I thought this would be easier._"

His mouth hung open for a few seconds, at least perceived seconds, before he responded. "**Ah, what the hell? That sounds almost word for word like something out of one of those crappy romance books I read from the Empire.**" His own commentary brought him to a jolting conclusion. "**Wait a second, you aren't trying to, you're not about to say the three words are you?**"

The aspect of Soul Calibur wrung its claw-like hands. "_I think so, at least that's what I'm trying to do. Just, every time you try to explain something to me, you always give it your best but stop because 'I lack the proper parts' to understand. It's probably a side effect of being bonded to you, but I feel closer to being fully alive with you than I ever have before in my thousand year history That and you putting so much on the line to do something specifically for my benefit._" The piece of moving crystal started to move closer to him. "_You've put up with me trying to kill you, far more than anyone of sound mind would tolerate. You stuck with me, made it a priority of yours to fix me._"

He held up both of his hands to keep the walking figure from actually touching him. "**Whoa now, hold on here. You know I had a stake invested in each of those things right?**"

Soul Calibur leaned closer anyway, hands intertwined in a pose that reminded him disturbingly of a stalker. "_I don't care. Besides, you came back for me after I tried to kill you, why would you do that unless you cared at least a little._"

He unconsciously took a step backwards. "**Uh, ok I'll grant that I did miss the sound of your voice.**" Realizing he had accidentally encouraged the female weapon he recanted. "**But, seriously, even if I did reciprocate it's not exactly like we could do anything about it. You're a female sword, I'm a male man. Some stuff just doesn't work, end of story.**"

The crystal figure straightened as her entire form flushed pink briefly, one clawed hand held up in a surprisingly human gesture that asked for a little more time. "_And that's what I figured out. I thought about how we could make it work._"

With a sound like glass being ground by a boot heel Soul Calibur's aspect started to change, shrinking vertically first until she matched him for height. The rough, sharp edges started to soften, some expanding but the vast majority of them seemed to be blown away in a tide of dust, only there was no wind. And then there was the face, somehow, possibly drawing on something deep in her thousand year memory, Soul Calibur conjured up the image of a sharp-featured goddess, with a chin so well formed someone could poke an eye out on it. Hair spontaneously sprouted from a head that now looked undeniably human, only this hair was ebon black, seemingly studded with diamonds, and cascaded in a gossamer cloud all the way to the top of her now perfectly formed thighs. And all of this happened in the time it took for him to draw only two breaths, leaving him utterly incapable of vocalizing a single word.

The sword, woman, both, seemed to take his silence as something else and shifted her "naked" form uneasily. "_You, don't like it?_"

Quite the contrary, he was speechless because of exactly how much he did like "it" as Soul Calibur put it. He'd been with some exotic women before, like the mermaid Yvette or Queen Fay while she was a ghost, but what was standing in front of him took the cake, and probably would forevermore. Considering their minds were so connected, he had to wonder slightly just how much of this originated from his subconscious, and how much actually came from her. Heck, his nymphomania might have been subconsciously infecting his sword from day one. This was bizarre to say the least, hell he didn't think there was even a term invented that he could classify an act like this under, but getting here was probably his fault in the first place.

He spoke his last thought aloud, not sure if Soul Calibur could read his mind while he was in here. "**I know I'm a chick magnet, but damn.**" He scratched the back of his neck with his left hand, mentally resigning himself to the inevitable end of this encounter. "**I don't know, you sure we have the time to spare? After all you did make a pretty big fuss before dragging me in here.**"

The avatar of Soul Calibur took a step forward, grabbed both of his shoulders, and wrapped one of her long, shapely legs around his waist. "_Remember what I told you, everything that happens here is only a flicker of thought on the outside. So we have all the time you could possibly need._"

Amazon Lily:

Acheron felt his mind come back to his body, and violently shook his head to reorient himself on the present. Remembering what he had been doing before the last hour or so in his head was almost a chore until he heard the violent cries of various guards that were zeroing in on his position, on the bright glow emanating from Soul Calibur's eye, which was now pulsing a deep, contented pink.

Slinging his other half across his back again he let reflex take over, and dove through the wall of the nearest hut, hoping that it was going to be empty. Upon his discovery that the building was in fact empty he took a brief moment to collect himself, remembering that he was here seeking Boa Hancock, for the stated purpose of getting her aid in sacking Mariejois. Up until a few seconds ago though, he had also been heavily leaning on the notion of bedding the Shichibukai too, whether he would still want to or not was a question now.

Soul Calibur whispered in his head, using a husky, seductive tone that would boil the blood of any man ever alive. "_It doesn't matter to me anymore, but you should probably at least meet her and try to get some help for our pirate friends. We did go through the bother of being shot out of Clayton's man-cannon after all, it would be a shame to let an opportunity slip by._"

He sidled over to the door on the small hut, cracking it open and peering out into the night while answering in kind. "**I couldn't help but notice that you are referring to the two of us as 'we' now instead of drawing a line. Got a special reason for that beyond your brilliant epiphany?**"

His partner answered as he dashed from the cover of one building to another, occasionally utilizing short jumps through portals. "_Well, I'm pretty sure that we are going to be stuck with each other for the rest of your life. Which, considering your parentage, should be at least a few thousand years at worst. And I know it'll be that long because I refuse to let you die so long as there is something I can do about it._" A mere heartbeat later she added, "_And don't you dare bring up that incident where you almost drowned. I'd still like to make Clayton suffer for at least ninety years before allowing him to die, just for him being so stupid._"

He came to another realization as his body essentially acted on its own, threading between the sparse guards becoming almost reflex. "**Wait a second, on the ship, you were crying, or at least doing your equivalent of it.**"

Soul Calibur's eye flashed red as he reached the steps of the largest building. "_I asked you to not bring that up!_"

He attempted to mollify the crystalline woman as he knocked one last guard over the head to clear his way to the huge double doors on the palace. "**Ok easy now, just me speaking without thinking about it, don't get your shiny panties in a bunch.**"

A sniff of derision preceded his partner's next words. "_Fine, a fresh topic then. I guess that you should know that I can mold my appearance in the real world almost as much as I can in our little dream world. Nothing so dramatic, but I could shift into a different weapon type if you prefer._"

He paused as he considered this, dividing his attention between brainstorming and admiring the palace in front of him, a huge white and red structure covered with decorative wooden arches and symmetrical kanji symbols at least on the side he could see. It was really a massive difference from the tiny mud huts he had been weaving through to get this far. On to Soul Calibur's offer though, it wasn't like her current shape were hindering his combat at all. He'd been using oversized weapons from day one; swords, axes, particularly maces. But as familiar as he was with the simple "hit it until it dies" mentality of a mace he felt that he would be sacrificing so much of her potential if he went with that familiar model.

He took a step forward and hopped through the, still closed, double doors before answering Soul Calibur's query. "**No thanks, at least till the end of this little adventure. After that we can experiment all you like.**"

The crystal being let out a little giggle as he wandered the empty, heavily oriental, halls. "_Experiment huh? Well, aren't we getting frisky already._"

He paused long enough to look back at Soul Calibur's glowing eye. "**You know, for once I actually didn't mean anything dirty by that.**" He chuckled lightly as he resumed his forward march, hanging a left around the next corner. "**Damn, I really am having an effect on you.**"

His partner echoed his laughter as he entered a large audience chamber. "_Well by all means continue to do so, I like it very much._"

As he advanced towards a likely target, another set of double doors adorned with a very large golden lock, a heavy thump sounded off from close by, causing him to reflexively drop back into a ready stance with one hand hovering over Soul Calibur's glittering hilt. Ahead, to either side of the double doors emerged two women. Correction, he told himself, two extremely hideous women. The one on the left looked relatively ok from the neck down, but her face was grotesquely flat and a long, serpentine tongue swished through the air in front of her. The one on the right wasn't even pretty excluding a certain part, she looked like an egg with a tuft of fluffy blonde hair on top, and a very fat egg at that.

The Egg-woman leveled a long hafted axe at him. "How dare you invade the sanctity of Amazon Lily?"

He figured that since he was caught out in the open he could afford to mouth off. "**Well, I dare because I am the Overlord, and violating sanctity is pretty much part of the job description. Now move out of my way, I have a self-arranged appointment with Boa Hancock.**"

Two steps forward and he found his way blocked by the extended halberd of the egg-women, and he hesitated just long enough for the green-haired one to start speaking. "Not so long as there is breath in our bodies."

Just as he was about to deliver some kind of smarmy remark about knocking the breath out of their ugly bodies with two moves, he was rudely interrupted by both of the women erupting upwards and outwards in a mass of scales, fangs, and snarled hair. On his part, he roared with surprise and unceremoniously fell backwards down the three or so steps that led to the double doors. In the space of mere seconds the pair of women had changed into massive serpents that filled the otherwise huge space with long, bulky coils. Somehow, even the weapon that the egg-woman held had expanded with her, gripped now by arms that could have physically enveloped him entirely.

Propping his supine form up with his arms he understandably shouted at both of the serpents. "**How the fuck did you do that?**"

The one with blonde hair spoke, looming over him with the axe held high. "Haven't you heard of the curse of the gorgon sisters? This is our gift, our curse for killing the gorgon."

The blade thundered down with planet-cracking force, but he was already gone, even though he knew full well that the axe would probably sail right through him without leaving a mark of any kind. It was the "probably" part that drove him to physically evade rather than rely on his devil fruit. It bothered him then, that the pair had been able to turn into giant snakes in the first place, apart from the very obvious fact that they were both trying to kill him. No one up until now had mentioned a single damn thing about a gorgon, and he knew what the monster was supposed to be like.

Paying the limited amount of attention he was, the axe blade crashed down into the stone mere inches in front of him, drawing out a very undignified and unmanly scream. Thus rattled, he rallied and whirled on the pair of giant serpents with a snarl contorting his face. "**Ok bitches, you wanted to piss me off, well you've succeeded. Prepare yourselves for the most legendary beat down in the history of your world!**"

He dove for the closest target first, the green haired snake that seemed otherwise unarmed. Basic combat logic would usually hold that he take on the one with the axe first, but following logic had never actually been his strong suit. He threw a wide, horizontal slash that should have separated the vast majority of the serpent's coils, but somehow to his eyes Soul Calibur's blade sailed right through the scaly torso without so much as a murmur. With a howl of rage and surprise he threw himself backwards to avoid the imminent counter attack.

Soul Calibur whispered in his head. "_I'm not sure what you felt, but I didn't touch anything but air on that swing. Somehow, she moved out of the way._"

He hissed back as he leaped left and right among the mounting debris of the floor. "**And how the fuck did she do that? She's practically backed right against the wall!**"

The sword giggled, clearly fully back to her old self. "_Oh that's not my problem, you're the warrior remember? I'd suggest trying to surprise her though, maybe one of those fancy portal tricks you use._"

The suggestion gave him an idea, quite a good one actually, and sent him rushing headlong for the green serpent again. This time though, at the last second he opened a portal in front of him and dove through it, right out of one directly behind the green serpent. It went without saying that he led this rush with the edge of Soul Calibur, and this move disemboweled his target handily, spilling a massive pile of snake entrails across the smashed stone floor.

The only opponent left, the one brandishing the massive axe, froze in apparent horror. "No, that's impossible; what have you done?"

He sprinted for the other snake's belly. "**Wrong bitch, and you're going to find out exactly what I did soon enough!**"

The axe fell again, but this time he leaped straight for it, Soul Calibur arcing out to meet, and then cut through, the massive blade. He continued straight upwards, burying his crystal partner in the throat of the snake before slicing it open all the way until his boots hit the floor again. The second flood of entrails brought about by this execution turned the formerly neat floor into what could easily be mistaken for the floor of a slaughterhouse, a mess of intestines, blood, oversized organs, and pieces of sheared off bone.

He smiled as he admired the damage, taking great care to wipe off every drop of blood from Soul Calibur's glittering length. "**I guess my jester Quaver can now add 'Serpent Slayer' to my illustrious list of accomplishments, eh?**"

He could almost swear that the sword shivered with delight as he wiped her down as he approached the now unguarded double doors. "_Indeed, you killed two completely under classed warrior women who had no chance whatsoever, I'm so proud of you._" The funny part was that he couldn't detect the sarcasm, if there was any.

He raised a boot and kicked the door solidly on the lock, preferring to go with the "shock and awe" approach if Boa Hancock was awake, as she should be after that considerable disturbance. The brutalized chunks of wood swung inwards, revealing an incredibly posh bedroom complete with elegant serpent motifs on the columns, on the carpet/rug he didn't know which, and on the curtains that partially obscured the shadowy figure of the woman sleeping in the massive bed.

He walked closer, lifting his right arm to sweep aside the gossamer curtain on the left side of the bed to get a better view of the so called Shichibukai. Upon ascertaining that the woman was still sound asleep, much to his amusement, he lowered the fingers on his right hand and pulled the single sheet away so he could decide for himself whether or not Boa Hancock really was "the most beautiful woman in the world." To start, her legs seemed almost abnormally long to him, extending as they did probably the full length of her torso, maybe more, until they finally ended at a set of fairly wide hips. Not that there was a real problem with any of his observations so far. Above Hancock's hips she possessed what seemed to him the absolutely narrowest waist he had ever seen on a woman, so much so that he almost thought he could encircle it with just one of his hands. And then his roving eyes fell upon the area of her chest. He felt personally that he had a good head on his shoulders, particularly when it came to matters of women, and he could not help but draw a comparison to the pair of extremely top-heavy beauties he had encountered on the Thousand Sunny. At the time he had marveled to himself about the bust lines of Nami and Nico Robin, now he had to wonder, just what in hell was in the water around here that made women grow such large breasts? Hancock's were only a few centimeters larger, in his expert eye, but still, he couldn't help but whistle softly to himself. With a last approving glance he finally moved on to the slumbering woman's face, and so ended his petty objections to her title. The silken cloud of ebon hair that framed her delicate, yet refined features were somewhat of a perfect mixture between the unrelenting cuteness of Shirahoshi and the deliberate allure of Honey Queen. The finale crowning touch was the pair of golden serpent earrings that were each about as large as one of his curled fingers, ergo, huge.

Despite his genuine admiration he felt the compulsion to poke a little fun at the woman. "**Heh, all that noise and she's still asleep? Damn, she could win a sleeping contest with the dead.**"

Now, obviously, he had to find a way to wake her up, preferably one without souring her mood towards him, which was already going to be rather poor with him invading her home in the middle of the night. And judging by the fact that she was still asleep after an epic throw down happened just outside her door, noise obviously wasn't going to do it. He could flip the bed with one hand, but that would probably be a pretty bad move. It would be funny, but still a bad move. A brief shock of Evil Presence? No, she'd feel the touch of his mental probe and her trust would plummet to the bottom of the sea. A bucket of water? Provided he could find one that would still be pretty stupid, especially considering that the only liquid on hand was the lake of blood out in the antechamber. He ran the fingers of his right hand along his chin in thought, feeling the sharp digits of his gauntlet scraping across his ebon skin.

A spark of inspiration struck him from the unconscious action and he quickly attempted to decide upon an appropriate area on the slumbering Shichibukai for him to prod. Any erogenous areas were automatically ruled out, to his disappointment, and so was her face for that matter. Faces were private, that was one of his few rules. Hancock shifted in her sleep, grumbling unintelligible nonsense as she sprawled into a very unladylike position, one foot just over the edge of the bed on his side. He smirked, extended the sharp point of his index finger, and lightly pricked the end of Boa Hancock's big toe.

The Snake Princess shot up with a shriek, reflexively gathering the sheet around herself. "Wha- Who dares-" Hancock's eyes sought him out with impressive speed. "Who are you and how did you get in here?"

His smirk remained and he cheekily replied. "**I walked through the door, I think that would be obvious. And I'm Acheron Killgore, Overlord.**"

The Shichbukai's gaze flickered towards the door. "What did you do to my sisters? They would never have let you in here."

Instantly, every muscle in his body froze solid as his eyes expressed his single minded horror as he realized what a terrible error he had made. Put plainly, his negotiations were now utterly screwed before they could even begin. The Snake Princess seemed to sense his immediate discomfort and lithely sprang from the bed to race out to the double doors. Even bracing himself mentally didn't prepare him for the shriek of utter rage mixed with despair that vibrated the very stone he was standing on. With a mighty wince he slowly turned towards the back of Boa Hancock, just in time for the Shichibukai to round on him with a face that was the twisted aspect of wrath.

The woman advanced towards him, red-faced and angry, picking up loose objects and throwing them at him with horrendous force. "I'll kill you, I'll kill you for what you've done!"

Not even bothering to try and talk the Shichibukai down, he spun on his heel and dove through a portal back to the Netherworld pursued by a hail of sundry objects.


	11. Sins of the Father and Son

Chapter 11: Sins of the Father and Son

Netherworld: Throne Room

Acheron Killgore lay prone on the stone floor of his throne room, illogically covering his head with both hands till the sound of crashing objects faded away. He had barely processed the information of slaughtering Boa Hancock's sisters, imagining how utterly awful it could have gone if he had brazenly tried to demand aid from the Shichibukai in spite of his grievous error. It barely mattered that he had done so out of deep ignorance, but he had unknowingly broken one of his most important rules; "never kill the family of someone that you don't have to." He could have easily slashed his way through Amazon Lily and walked into the palace with Evil Presence blazing and gotten everything he had wanted, but everything and everyone left in the world would hear about it and he would have to do the same everywhere else to assert his dominance. It was grossly inefficient. This wasn't him being lazy, it was him being smart. And he usually scored some hot ass along the way. Sure, he would have to kill a few people because they were either too stubborn or too stupid to not back down before they died, but this one time, this one time he had to kill the two absolutely WORST possible people he could have, the Empress's own two sisters. Shit luck just didn't get any clearer than that.

He slowly stood up, another thought occurring to him when his boots were both level with the floor. "**Oh fuck me, what the hell am I going to tell Clayton and the other pirates? I have an image to think of here.**"

Yeah, if he walked back having failed so utterly, by doing the single stupidest thing that one could do, he would be forever diminished in the eyes of his pirate underlings, not to mention the drastic wound to his own pride. Worse still, it would gnaw at him over the rest of the campaign, undermining his normally immutable confidence. Now though, he was hard pressed to come up with any idea to fix the situation.

He started to mutter morosely. "**Well, I guess Clayton and the others will just have to settle for dying by the shipload to batter down the walls of Mariejois. No way now to…**"

Soul Calibur asked the baited question and questioned his silence. "_Hello? Earth to Acheron, are you listening to me? What is there no way to, what?_"

He sprang up where he stood, holding fast to both his helmet and Soul Calibur and they bounced on his person. "**I know how to fix this!**"

Without waiting around long enough for his crystal partner to gather the wit to form an insult he bolted for the stairs to the minion burrows, ready to pay Mortis another visit. After all, the ugly sisters had barely been dead for ten minutes, how much could it possibly cost him to bring them both back?

Netherworld: Minion Burrows

"**What do you mean it'll cost me ten thousand minions for each sister?**" He found himself roaring at the abashed minion master of death. "**Neither has been dead for more than fifteen minutes, what the hell is making them so expensive?**"

Mortis tapped the bottom of his scythe against the ground lightly. "Master, do remember that these siblings reside in a different world. Clearly then, more power is required to do as you ask and resurrect them."

He stood in silence, hands raised before him twitching in time with the little quiver of rage running through his eyebrows. He'd have to sacrifice another fifth of his minion army to right correct his blunder and a thought passed through his head that questioned whether it was worth it for him in the long run. Sure he could save face now, but if he didn't have the minions to back up his military efforts in the future he could suffer an even worse upset. Shaking his head he gave himself a mental slap, who was he kidding? He didn't need the minions anymore now that he could slice through an entire army all by himself. Yes, they were a part of his status as an Overlord, but one that he didn't need to parade in front of people. If he started wearing the Evil Eye helm and reap double the life-force from his kills he could at least start recouping his losses before anyone outside of the Netherworld caught on. In that respect, it was a minor sacrifice to spare his pride.

He glared at the deathly minion. "**I'll do it, but not right now. I have someone to 'collect' first. Then we can proceed.**"

As he turned on his heel Soul Calibur spoke aloud. "_Wow, that must be a new record for 'shortest guilt-trip ever.' And going so far as to bring the dead back, you must really want this woman in bed._"

He replied in a monotone grumble as he ascended the stairs. "**Look, I try to be as unlike the Old Man as I can, but there is a certain thing I know I share in common with the geezer. And that is the part where I have a certain way I like to accomplish things, and if I screw up I'm going to go to great lengths to get it right. I guess that's called being a perfectionist.**"

The sword let out a peal of glittering laughter as he approached the open portal. "_That's a laugh, coming from you, but I see the point. You are both stubborn to unfathomable degrees, but I guess you don't need to be re-told about the time I stabbed him in the stomach and he twisted me so hard I was almost snapped in half._"

He paused before stepping through the swirling black gateway. "**You really like to bring that story up, any special reason since you are so proud of leaving that part of yourself behind?**"

The sword giggled as her eye flashed violet briefly. "_I wounded a god, isn't that something you'd want to brag about to anyone that has ears?_"

He silently nodded. "**Yeah, I can see that, although I don't think I'm likely going to get the chance to wound any gods in the near future.**" He paused for a moment and amended his thought. "**Unless of course there is some kind of god backing the World Government that no one has bothered to tell me about yet. And considering how many times crap has just been sprung on us that could easily happen.**"

Amazon Lily: Palace

Acheron Killgore emerged into the darkened bedroom he had fled from less than an hour prior. Considering the conditions he had left under he made sure to take a quick glance behind him as the portal closed, checking the bed despite the high improbability of Boa Hancock simply going back to sleep after her sisters were killed in battle. Finding nothing, as he expected, he slowly stalked his way towards the antechamber, noting the heavy smell of soap and flowers as soon as he took a step outside the bed chamber. Conspicuously, both the bodies and the flood of entrails were completely gone. This either meant that the women of Amazon Lily worked extremely well under pressure or perhaps there was a devil fruit user on the island that had somehow affected the rapid displacement of the gore.

A clack and a stretching sound drew his attention to the right, where a small group of women were standing with bows drawn, bows that were creepily formed out of snakes. "You, invader, surrender immediately so that you may be brought to justice by our beloved Empress!"

He leveled a flat glare towards the women and raised his right hand, charging Evil Presence to full power in the space of a single breath. "**Fat chance of that, but you all can do me the favor of leading me to her.**" The spell was unleashed, blue lighting leaping forward and arcing from woman to woman as they collectively convulsed while his resolute will invaded their comparatively feeble minds. "**Now that that little quarrel is settled…**" He walked over and bodily arranged the women around him in a loose circle that would convey the illusion of a prisoner and the guards. "**…Lead on to Boa Hancock.**"

Soul Calibur chuckled and spoke in his head. "_So, is there any particular reason you didn't try this ruse last night? Because from where I'm sitting it looks like it could have prevented quite a few problems._" Before he could snap back with an angry retort the sword added a small addendum. "_Ah, but then again everything seems perfect in hindsight. Who's to say what those two harpies would have done even if you were escorted in._"

He decided to not respond, focusing instead on keeping his head somewhat down to put up the illusion, flimsy though it may be, that he was a broken and beaten man. A façade like that could never be even close to convincing without willing volunteers, particularly due to how the power of Evil Presence caused the shoulders and heads of the women surrounding him to sag far further than his own did with his acted out submission. Still though, an inattentive observer might mistake the shoulder slump as a sign of weariness alone. Indeed, the few stragglers of other guards that his little group passed seemed to think that, cheering on his "captors" and shooting unimaginative jeers his way. Funny that they already seemed to have forgotten that he had killed two giant snakes, the heroines of the island no less, and if they weren't a threat to him then no number of snake-bow wielding women were going to even scratch his armor.

His thralls took a sudden turn to the left and entered a very obvious throne room, complete with the raised dais on the far end where the now black-clad Boa Hancock seemed to be delivering a funeral eulogy for her two dead sisters. Said speech stopped the instant he entered the room as the Empress recognized him, face shifting from a picture of obvious grief to the image of overpowering rage that he had fled from earlier.

Boa Hancock roared at him across the length of the throne room, bellowing loud enough to rattle the walls. "How dare you show your face here again? No death I could inflict would ever wring enough vengeance out of you for this crime you have committed!"

He waved his arm and dismissed his mind slaves. "**Yeah, about that crime, what if I said that I-**"

The Kuja Empress practically flew off the dais, sprinting towards him at fantastic speed. "No excuse will ever suffice!"

A low scuffing sound joined the sight of Boa Hancock drawing up short just before barging into him and pirouetting on the heel of her back foot while throwing a kick towards his head. He reacted immediately, ducking to get his head out of the way while at the same time raising his right hand to catch the speeding limb with the intention of bringing Hancock under physical control far enough that he could explain what he wanted to do. The pale flesh of the Snake Princess's ankle slapped solidly into his waiting grip and he thought the brawl would be over quite soon, however the woman's other foot shot up from the floor and connected quite solidly with his chin, staggering him back and forcing him to unwittingly let go of Hancock's captured limb.

As he righted himself Soul Calibur whispered to him. "_A note for the two of us, it seems that if you are touching someone, then they have free reign on touching you back. Just thought I'd share that observation._"

He rubbed his jaw with his left hand while setting his stance and squaring up for another go with the Empress. "**Yeah, thanks, as if I wasn't going to pick up on the same thing.**"

Hancock rushed him again, leading with her left foot for another kick. This time he stepped into it, letting the intended blow whiz through him before closing his arms around the Snake Princess like the jaws of a great trap.

He spoke as Hancock struggled in his grasp. "**Ok, like I was trying to say earlier-**"

An explosion of pain originated in his groin and the Empress sprang away as his hands reflexively let go to clasp at his tenderized nether regions. Unable to act, he looked up while Hancock seemed to prepare another kick, one that would invariably miss him, but still would be utterly insulting.

Out of nowhere a bolt of black lightning struck the Snake Princess in the stomach hard enough to plant Hancock firmly on her hind end, a bolt that was immediately followed by the voice of Soul Calibur. "_Hands and feet to yourself you wasp-waisted freak._"

Hancock looked utterly stunned for a moment, as did everyone else in the room, before climbing to her feet and pointing an accusatory finger at Soul Calibur. "How dare you call me a freak when you are nothing but an object?"

The sword whispered in his head. "_I'm giving you a great chance here, don't waste it._" His partner then rebuked Hancock's statement. "_Maybe, but at least I look at someone when I'm talking to them, you're looking so far down your nose at me you're looking up!_"

Before the verbal catfight could continue he made his move, simultaneously creating two portals at arm level and sending his hand through them. Each of his limbs seized one of Hancock's arms and pulled both left and right respectively per arm. So now, perhaps he could get a word in edgewise, provided he kept himself out of range of the Snake Princess's feet.

He slowly rose to his feet, groaning at both the start and end of said process, and moved to a generous four feet away from his current captive. "**Ok then, now we can talk without any more interruptions.**"

Hancock thrashed violently against his unyielding grip. "We have nothing to discuss murderer, now release me this instant!"

A low growl escaped his mouth. "**So you can kick me in the magic stick again? I think not, you can hold still long enough for me to say what I've come here to say and then we'll see what you think.**" He took a deep breath and locked eyes with the Shichibukai. "**Whatever you may think, I'm sorry both that I killed your sisters, and that they were stupid enough to try fighting me in the first place. And before you flip out and start defending them you should know I'm right just from that little scrap we had.**" Hancock silently glared at him but was still focused, so he continued. "**In that light…**" He hesitated for a second, still irked by the personal cost of this gesture. "**... I would like to offer to resurrect both of your sisters so we can put this mess behind us.**"

The Empress's eyes bugged out of her head, clearly shocked beyond belief. "That's, that's completely impossible! You're just saying that to get me to trust you-"

His temper snapped and he closed with the Shichibukai, far enough that they were practically face to face. "**Look here bitch, I'm doing this against my better judgment and at great personal cost to myself. Resurrecting the dead isn't fucking cheap, understand? So I wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth and just accept the fucking offer.**"

Hancock's mouth hung open, either astonished that someone had just shouted at her or simply at the content of his outburst. He wasn't going to even bother defending himself either; he was perfectly justified to interrupt a rambling woman whenever he felt like it.

Soul Calibur whispered in his head. "_That started off as a very nice speech, comparable to something your father could come up with. You lost your temper a bit towards the end though, and the 'bitch' might have been a bit much, even if I fully agree with you._"

A very long moment of silence passed, one which was filled with the uneasy shifting of the multitude of women around the perimeter of the throne room, before Hancock finally seemed to gather enough mental faculties to speak. "I, very well, it seems I have nothing else to lose."

One of the women around the throne started to raise an objection. "But, my lady-"

He sharply cut the guard off with a wide-eyed glare, voice rising in pitch towards the end of his interjection. "**She's made a decision, so shut the fuck up!**" His left arm let go of the Empress and swung through the air once, creating a fresh portal that led straight to the Minion Burrows, before he practically hissed at the woman. "**This way, if you don't mind.**"

Boa Hancock shrugged out of his grasp and strut her way towards the swirling black hole, nose high in the air. Immediately upon releasing the Snake Princess he turned to follow, shooting withering glares around at random before he cuffed the woman ahead of him just hard enough to shake up Hancock's snooty walk.

Netherworld: Minion Burrows

Acheron silently lead the Shichibukai down towards Mortis's little lair on the river of souls that the deathly minion tended. All this while he could feel Boa Hancock's soft glare drilling into the back of his head with a smoldering malice that would wither the will of lesser men. Of course, now he could very easily reciprocate what with the brutal kick the woman had delivered to his nether regions, a blow which still ached quite fiercely since only a few minutes had passed.

A slight click of a tongue preceded a string of words from his "guest." "How exactly are you going to-"

He sharply cut the raven-haired woman off with a gesture. "**Like I said in your court, I have my ways. Now just shut up till I say otherwise.**"

An indignant huff was Hancock's response, followed, to his slight relief, by silence. At least, silence from the Snake Princess. His minions on the other hand were up in a raucous chant for one reason or another, most likely admiring, in their tiny minds, the admittedly gorgeous woman walking behind him. Otherwise, well, maybe Queen Fay had thrown them a steak or something. Either option could arouse this kind of frenzy.

Mortis called out a slight greeting as he and Hancock came into sight of the blue minion hive. "Salutations Young Master, are you ready to proceed at the present time?"

Hancock let out a cry of disgust the moment she walked around him. "Eck, what is this hideous creature?"

He leveled a malevolent glare at the Shichibukai. "**That 'hideous' creature is my servant and the only way your sisters are coming back to life. So again, just shut up and enjoy the show.**"

Again, the woman shut up with a derisive sniff. But it was enough time for him to give a nod of accent to Mortis and lift his command gauntlet high enough for the process to start. The brilliant shimmer of life force streaming away into the river was enough to strike anyone speechless, particularly the first time they saw it, so he was mercifully spared any further foolish remarks from the Shichibukai, and that would hopefully continue once this little debacle was resolved and he had Hancock's cooperation in the sacking of Mariejois. The knowledge of his final goal however, could not stop him from grumbling silently as his minion army dwindled. Despite his earlier logical thoughts, he still didn't like the fact that he was spending so much life-force for something that didn't directly benefit him. He glanced down at the water of the river, noticing two dark forms rising towards the surface, and promptly shut off the flow of life force from his store.

As the pair of bodies were magically lifted out of the river and shocked to life he turned towards Hancock with a smug grin on his face and made a grandiose gesture to the resurrected sisters. "**Well, do I deliver or do I deliver? I believe I deserve something of an apology now.**"

The woman however, was still silent as she stared at her sisters, mouth hanging open like a fool. With slow, deliberate movements Hancock walked closer and knelt over the body of the big headed snake-woman, brushing at the damp ropes of green hair that partially obscured the face of the newly risen.

His first victim opened her eyes slowly, looking up into the face of Boa Hancock, "Wha…" A convulsion rocked her body. "Sister? But I thought that we had…"

Even from his standing position to the far right of the kneeling Shichibukai he could see the corners of the woman's mouth twitch upwards in overt joy. Slow, broken laughter started to ring out, sounding vaguely insane, and small tears started to dot the floor of the Minion Burrows.

Mildly concerned, if only for the reason that he didn't want to ally himself with a freshly emerged psychopath, he spoke with slow, cautious diction. "**Ah, are you ok?**"

Without warning, Boa Hancock sprang up from her knees, seized him by the back of the helmet, and started showering kisses upon the front of his face and helmet, blathering "thank you" at an almost unintelligible speed, eyes shining with the light of mad joy. He might as well have been a statue for how much he reacted, meaning not at all he was so stunned. This continued until, during one particularly lasting moment of facial contact the Snake Princess blinked once and her eyes refocused before roughly shoving herself away.

Visually, Hancock composed herself into a perfect picture, with the sole distinction that her face was as red as fresh blood. "I, ah, believe you had some business you wanted to discuss with me?"

He gave himself a mental slap, and received a silent one from Soul Calibur, before he was capable of answering. "**Yes, uh, exactly. There's a ship floating just off of your island, the Grim Angel, just talk to the acting captain, Clayton. He'll tell you exactly what we need from you.**" A small shiver ran down his spine. "**I, I need a stiff drink.**" He turned to one of the blue minions. "**Show the three of them out.**"

Without another word he opened a portal and stepped through, straight into the bar he had run across on his first sojourn, the Drunken Privateer.

The Drunken Privateer: Two hours later

Acheron sat alone in the back room of the bar, silently contemplating his private issues while downing mug after mug of ale, rum, and whatever else he could think of to order from the bar. Whilst he did this, he continually cursed his apparent inability to become drunk, as the blissful oblivion would be rather welcome right now. His mind continually drifted back to the events he had induced upon Amazon Lily, all of which had occurred in the space of only a few hours. And in that time he had murdered and resurrected a woman's closest kin, received both the deepest loathing and depthless gratitude from that selfsame woman, and felt himself hating and lusting after, again, the same woman. Nothing had ever been this utterly confusing for him.

Soul Calibur spoke aloud, from the improvised stand he had made from the nearest chair. "_What's on your mind?_"

He grumbled into his cup, this one of rum, and replied. "**I thought you could read my mind, so don't you know the answer to that already?**"

The sword's eye slowly became a deeper blue. "_Well, yes, but I thought you might want to talk about it before you drink this entire establishment dry._" Her eye flashed red for the briefest moment. "_I suppose she lives up to her title, at least so far as the rest of the pirates are concerned._"

He set the mug down, empty but he delayed signaling for another. "**Ah, 'so far as the rest of the pirates are concerned'? I'm assuming that you are holding yourself above her then?**"

Soul Calibur replied, voice glowing with pride. "_Well of course, I am just about perfect after all. I'm just going to grant that she meets, and possibly exceeds, the standards I've seen that you hold other women to._"

He smiled a little bit at the dry humor, and arrogance, of the sword. "**So, in other words you're telling me to go for it? That seems pretty odd.**"

The crystal sword started to respond, but was overshadowed by the voice of Gnarl that suddenly erupted from the inside of his helmet. "Young master, your presence is required in the Netherworld immediately."

His mouth opened and shut once or twice out of shock. This was something that he had heard of only once, the part in the story of his father where the Old Man was brought home only to be betrayed by everyone and everything except his deceased aunt Velvet. That couldn't possibly be happening now could it? Wouldn't it have been far better for something or someone to betray him immediately after he had sacked the Empire?

With a snarl twisting his face at the perceived injustice he snatched up Soul Calibur and dove through a fresh portal home to the Netherworld, hesitating only briefly to set out the five gold coins to pay for the drinks he had consumed.

Netherworld: Throne Room

Acheron burst through the portal with a cry of fury pent up and ready to burst upon first sight with anything that he perceived as a threat. Immediately, he could identify only one thing out of place with the picture, one person standing right in the middle of the long red rug that led up to his throne. Further, this person was a woman, one that he knew was not one of his mistresses even though they were a blonde like Honey Queen. The first chief difference was the length of hair; the mystery woman had blonde hair gathered up in a huge braid that fell all the way to the top of her thighs, thighs that were only partially obscured by a red piece of clothing more suited to a bedroom than public. His immediate reaction was cautious admiration, but he had this feeling in his gut that there was something seriously wrong about even that.

The woman turned slowly as the sound of his boot steps started to echo, and the first thing to catch his attention was the eyes, eyes that would make normal people run away screaming in terror, two pitch black orbs with blood red irises. He was fairly lucky that he had already faced down far worse; otherwise he might have been unmanned right then and there.

Some kind of spark passed through those baleful black eyes and the woman started to sprint for him, unarmed, smiling, and preceded by a peal of delight before she flung her widespread arms around his broad shoulders. "Acheron, I never thought I would see you again!"

He was immediately dumbstruck. He was quite sure that he had never seen this woman before, so how in hell did she know his name? "**I, ah, who the hell are you?**"

Soul Calibur muttered in his head. "_Very nice, very subtle, great way to treat a lady._"

The woman looked up at him, an expression of indescribable hurt etched into her face. "You mean you don't-"

A new voice broke in on the conversation, one that could only belong to one person and echoed through the Netherworld. "**Don't fret dear, it has been over twenty years for him, and he was only four at the time of the incident. A bit of ignorance is to be expected at this meeting.**"

Emerging from the shadows near the throne, red eyes gleaming like twin suns, the spines of his black armor soaring to menacing heights, and a gleaming, blood red blade proudly displayed over his shoulder, was the one man he had worked so hard to surpass his whole life, Erasmus Killgore, the God of Evil, his father.


	12. A Family Matter

Chapter 12: A Family Matter

Netherworld: Throne Room

Acheron Killgore felt as though his head was going to explode from the sheer stress of trying to process the giant anomaly standing in front of him. His own father; lost for twenty something years to the void of another world, now returned. What that meant for his title as an Overlord he didn't even consider, at least not yet, but one question forced itself quite predominately to the forefront of his mind.

His voice emerged like a strangled gasp. "**How, how the hell did you get here? The Tower Heart was destroyed, twice!**"

His father nodded gravely. "**Yes, it was. The second time by your hand no less. But I digress, anything that was made can be made again, and that is how we now stand here. I simply built my own Tower Heart.**"

He was dumbfounded, and asked the completely redundant question. "**You, built your own Tower Heart? How? I had to drain an entire Sanctuary and the Fairy Queen to charge that thing up!**"

The senior Overlord chuckled quietly. "**So I hear, but it was not entirely easy for me either. I was forced to find a crystal of sufficient size and clarity to even begin. And then there was the act of carving it to shape, in my case an elongated prism, before I could even go about charging it.**"

The woman, whom he could now assume was either his mother or one of his aunts, added her two cents to the conversation. "And that was the easy part, right Erasmus?"

His father nodded to the woman. "**Quite, I simply sacrificed a full million people and used the power of their souls to fill the virgin Tower Heart to the brim with mystic power. Returning here was a rather simple matter after that, as I could recall the feel of my own home quite well.**"

Gnarl's sycophantic voice floated over to the three of them from near the throne. "And it is truly home again with you here, your Dark Majesty!"

He broke in, anger flaring up like the bubbling lava far beneath his feet. "**Now wait just one fucking minute, that's how this is going to work? You just waltz back on in here, say 'hello' and you're automatically in charge?**"

Erasmus's hands rose in an obvious placating attempt. "**No, no, far from it. I would never dream of taking your lands from you. You conquered them with your own blood and sweat, they are yours and that is the end of the discussion.**" The hands fell and the note of diplomacy left his father's voice. "**But, there is one thing that I would request. A request made slightly more urgent with the apparent destruction of the Dark Tower.**" He gestured at the obsidian walls around them. "**This place, the Netherworld, as your father and this family's patriarch I would request that ownership be passed to me. After all, your mother, aunts, and sister need a place to live close to family.**"

He spat out an objection. "**You have got to be…**" Then a piece of his father's last sentence hit his brain fully. "**Wait a second, I have a sister?**"

The blonde woman answered this question. "Well, half-sister technically. I only gave birth to you, so, yes."

His father added on to the woman's commentary. "**And in a rather ironic twist of fate she was actually born before you, and yet due to some odd time paradox she is now about eight years younger than you are.**" A ghostly impression of a smile flashed out of the dark visage. "**I can't even begin to tell you how excited Persephone was when I told her she would soon get to see her brother again.**"

He was starting to feel a little dizzy from all of the information pouring in at him. "**Ok, so…**" He pointed to the blonde woman. "**You're my mother Sophitia and I have a half-sister named Persephone who is about fifteen.**" He turned back towards his father. "**And you have the balls to come in and just ask for me to hand over the Netherworld?**"

Likely sensing the shift in the atmosphere, Erasmus stood a bit straighter and folded his hands behind his back. "**Only in the best interest of the whole family for sure. It's not as if I would make you leave.**"

His chin fell and he tapped at it thoughtfully for a few seconds before he looked back up and whipped Soul Calibur off of his back. "**I tell you what; I'll fight you for it.**"

His father nodded slowly. "**If that is your choice, then that is how we shall settle the matter.**"

His mother broke in. "Wait, absolutely not-"

Erasmus cut Sophitia off with a raised hand. "**Relax dear, I won't hurt him.**"

He felt a smirk stretch across his face, confident that his devil fruit would give him an insurmountable edge. "**If that's true then this is going to be over pretty damn quick.**"

He took a step forward and leaped into the air towards his father, who stood stock still with both hands again folded behind his back. Time seemed to slow down as his eyes met his elder's, blood red tracking golden yellow as the latter reached the apex of his jump and began to fall, blade first, towards the former. With a sense of triumph swelling within him more with every inch closer he fell he bared his teeth in a savage grin as he anticipated opening a gaping wound across the chest of a god. However, at the last possible millisecond Erasmus moved out of the way, a motion so slight it almost seemed that the elder Overlord didn't move at all. Soul Calibur passed down, skirting the glittering black torso of his father's armor by a width no wider than the span of a single strand of hair. At the empty clang of his crystal blade on the stone floor he looked up to the right, only to see an explosion of blue light that made it feel like he had been punched directly in the brain.

Netherworld: Private Quarters: Two Days later

Acheron felt a throbbing pain in his brow, but did not immediately open his eyes. Instead he took a moment of silence to consider, just maybe, that his last memories had just been a dream. He couldn't have possibly been beaten that easily by anyone, even a god of Evil, right?

He felt the familiar shape of Soul Calibur's hilt in his left hand, only moments before the sword spoke in his head. "_I have only two words for you describing that little duel, epic fail._"

He cursed silently, now that his memory had just been confirmed as reality. He had been dethroned in one motion by his own father. What now, some kind of slavish drudgery under the arcanium thumb of his Old Man?

His eyes cracked open, mere inches away from a set of glowing purple ones. Silence followed for a few heartbeats as he tried to reconnect his mind to reality, and then his instincts took over and he let out a loud bellow of surprise. "**AH! What the hell are you doing?**"

The face containing the purple gems backed away only slightly, a coy, teasing smile decorating her plump lips. "**Come on brother, you're made of sterner stuff than that, right?**"

The woman, well girl, who could only be his sister Persephone, was nothing short of an alabaster-skinned goddess, and she held herself like she knew it. The black and violet strapless dress she was wearing hugged her curves until flaring out with her wide hips where it was slit down one side to show off a great deal of leg. The mane of silver hair that framed her head was left unfettered, so that it fluttered with the slightest movement in a shimmering display that almost hurt the eyes. Her face looked to be carved out of marble, with strong features that practically demanded attention. And almost disturbingly, Persephone had an absolutely huge rack, bigger even than Boa Hancock's. All of these observations felt very odd for him to make, most likely because he was making them about his own sister, and the fact that she was only fifteen, but he had eyes, so it wasn't like he was going to _not_ see things.

At length, he responded to his sister's rebuke. "**I am, just most people don't lurk over someone else's face while they're waking up. It's creepy.**"

Persephone shrugged, clearly not caring one way or the other, before turning around halfway to call out across the room. "**Daddy, Acheron's finally awake!**"

Almost the instant the last word was spoken his father seemed to materialize next to his sister, looking as utterly composed as Gnarl always bragged about. "**Good to see I didn't cause any real harm Acheron, you've been out of action for two whole days now.**" Just when he was about to raise a very loud objection Erasmus cut him off. "**Don't worry my boy, I've been micromanaging your allies so they know that nothing is amiss. Officially, you are recovering from the ordeal of resurrecting two people very close to the Empress of Amazon Lily, so the final assault waits for your order.**"

His free hand scratched the back of his neck. "**Ah, thanks, I guess. Why go through the trouble though? I thought you've taken over the show here now.**"

Erasmus shrugged and shook his head. "**Come now Acheron, it is as I said before. Your lands are your own and I will not interfere with that. That applies to the over-world above us and this new, apparently pirate infested, world you are in the process of bringing to heel. I only needed the authority to make sure our, how do you say, hub remains largely neutral ground.**"

Silence fell for another long, rather awkward moment as he struggled for something flippant to say, but he eventually gave up. "**Then, I guess thanks, for now.**"

His father either didn't notice, or far more likely didn't deign to respond to the reluctance with which the thanks had been delivered. "**I do what I can.**" The senior Overlord glanced between him and Persephone. "**On the topic of your allies, you should have the rest of the day to do with as you please until they start getting, how do you say, slightly irate. So…**" The red-eyed god held out an offering hand. "**…Why don't you and I go somewhere and catch up? I've heard about a good deal of your exploits from Gnarl but I'd much rather hear about them from your perspective.**" A low chuckle echoed in the large chamber before the Old Man continued. "**Perhaps I can count on you to not embellish the details so much?**"

The irony of his father's last statement was that the exact opposite was true, whatever lies the old minion had told Erasmus, he, the doer of those deeds, was liable to stretch the truth at least twice as far. Hell, Quaver the jester would be proud of his blatant falsehoods. The Devourer, the beast formed of the stolen and soured magic at the demise of the Glorious Empire, he'd probably make it out to be some kind of legendary draconic creation instead of the moving pile of slime that it had truly been.

Either way though, if he really had been laid up for two whole days he wanted to get the Hell out of the Netherworld, and he couldn't think of a convincing reason that both his father and sister would lie to him. "**I guess I can do that, and I know just the place for it.**"

Fishman Island: Mermaid Bar

Acheron marched to the front of the line with as much aplomb as he could muster, which was quite considerable. Erasmus was, at most, half a step or so behind, and the only way he knew this was due to the impossibly miniscule amount of noise made by his father's arcanium armor as the elder Overlord walked. It annoyed him considerably that the Old Man was so quiet when heavy armor was supposed to be so noisy, and it particularly disturbed him that he hadn't heard so much as a single breath from his sire since waking up.

Shaking himself from his private reverie he spoke to the young mermaid allowing people inside. "**Table for two, preferably a wall booth or table.**"

The mermaid, a pretty thing with blue scales on her tail and similarly colored eyes, started to object. "I'm sorry sir but we…" She stopped for a second and changed her tune abruptly as she realized who he was. "Oh! I'm so sorry sir, please go right on in and seat yourself!"

He shot a glance over his shoulder, both at the pirates that were still waiting in line and Erasmus, the latter of which was gazing around at the entire area with a sense of cool indifference. He wasn't sure exactly what he was looking for, but the glares of furious envy from the pirates still stuck in line were deeply gratifying. Inside, there was nowhere near the number of people to suggest the need for the line outside, so possibly Madam Shyarly had just decided today to be a bitch. Therefore, there was a fine selection of choices along the wall.

He stalked over and slid into a seat with his back to the majority of the room, glancing up at his father as the elder Overlord slid into the opposite seat. "**So, where do you want me to start with this epic yarn? When I sack Empire City? My devious invasion of the Evernight Resort?**"

Erasmus entwined his fingers and was silent for a short time, red eyes narrowing just slightly. "**I think, that I would rather have you start with what you first remember after our separation. It has been two years, two very long years, for me and obviously far longer for you. I want to know what I missed out on.**"

Soul Calibur whispered in his head. "_Wow, he's asking for your whole life story. Clearly he expected a very long sit down when he suggested this._"

He deigned to not answer his sword's comment and instead focus on saying something that would satisfy the Old Man's query. Sure, he could rant and rave about how he had felt abandoned these long years, but that would make him sound like a whiny little kid. That kid was the absolute last thing he wanted to sound like, now or ever. So, that left him the option of fashioning a quick lie, right? Surely it took being able to look someone in the face to tell a lie from the truth, right?

He started talking, trying with all his will to keep a straight face. "**I'll be honest with you, the first thing I can clearly remember is waking up in a Nordberg shack, nothing about living in the Dark Tower, nothing about you or anything about mom, and absolutely nothing about living through the cataclysm.**"

Erasmus's gaze fell towards the table, a note of barely perceptible sadness almost inaudible in his voice. "**I see, that's, quite disappointing.**" The elder Overlord's burning red eyes snapped up and off to a spot behind and to the right of him. "**Were you expecting any kind of company upon entering here? I ask, only because there is a large black-haired mermaid gliding towards us with a rather irate look about her.**"

He turned to his right, draping his arm over the back of the seat to allow him to turn further. Immediately, he felt the urge to slap himself on the forehead, because Madame Shyarly was indeed making a beeline across the bar towards his table, shark teeth bared. "Irate" was a massive understatement, considering how they had last parted.

Shyarly stopped at the edge of the table, casting a shadow that would unnerve many a brave soul. "Can I trust that you are not going to cause a horrific scene this time, or attempt to manipulate me or my girls?"

He leaned back, slouching to give the impression that he was unimpressed. "**Of course not, I'm just here to enjoy a short little chat with my Old Man.**" He cocked an eyebrow at the mermaid. "**That's not going to be a problem, right, **_**Madam**_** Shyarly?**"

Shyarly rounded on his father, deflecting her wrath towards the elder Overlord. "Then you are the one that spawned this, this…" Her hands inched forward as if she were going to attempt to strangle him on the spot.

Erasmus interrupted the furious mermaid in a calm, velvety smooth voice. "**If my boy has caused you some grief then I would apologize profusely for that deed, Madam Shyarly.**" The black armored goliath turned in his seat and bowed as far as the table would allow, lightly taking hold of one of the bar proprietor's outstretched hands. "**However what Acheron says now is true, a conversation that is now more than twenty years overdue. I would ask of you, fair lady, that for the time being you shelve whatever quarrel you have with my son so that I may learn of which has conspired these long years.**"

Shyarly's temper was snuffed out like a match in a howling gale and an intense blush suffused her face. "I, ah, well I…" A demure, shy smile tugged at the corners of the Madam's mouth. "Of course, Mister…?"

His father chuckled lightly. "**Oh no, 'mister' will not do at all. That word just makes me feel horribly old. Please, call me Erasmus if it pleases you.**"

The bar proprietor cocked her head to one side, smirking slightly now as she responded. "I think that it would, very much so." Shyarly turned her suddenly icy gaze back towards him. "Provided you don't start anything else, we'll be fine." Without missing a beat the black-scaled mermaid shifted her attention back to his father, smiling again like she hadn't just borderline threatened him. "I do hope you enjoy yourself while you're here, Erasmus."

With a pert swish of her tail fin Shyarly did an about face and started back across the bar, but not without some prodigious swings of her hips and a couple of coy glances back towards the table, glances that were clearly directed at his father.

He found himself fuming internally, but Soul Calibur caught on to this and started giggling, worse, she started giggling out loud. "_I guess, I guess that your assumption of her sexual preferences was way off base!_"

Mortified and humiliated by the display, yet unable to do a damn thing about it, he slumped forward and buried his face in his hands, barely suppressing the impulse to scream his frustrations to all present.

His father, whom clearly was taking this opportunity just to make him suffer, voiced a question. "**It would appear that I am missing out on a joke, so would someone care to enlighten me?**"

Soul Calibur apparently decided to do so, in direct opposition to the stone-crushing grip he had taken on her handle. "_Last time we were here, Acheron put the moves on Shyarly and she brushed him off, rather violently. He dismissed it as a fact that Shyarly must be a lesbian if she were rebuking him._"

He finished the story, to try saving face and conveying his immense frustration in the same sequence. "**And now I am very clearly proven wrong by her giving you the eye of lust, and doing the grand 'fuck me' dance as she was floating away.**"

Erasmus's only physical reaction was the upwards twitch of one hidden eyebrow, only conveyed through the slight widening of the bloody ruby on the right. "**Well, if this is jealousy I am sensing than you need not worry. I will not be responding to the, ah, 'fuck me' dance as you so delicately put it.**" There was a moment of awkward silence before the god continued. "**I'm afraid I cannot, for the life of me, figure out another reason for your ire.**"

He blinked once or twice, surprise momentarily burying his anger. "**Wait a second; you aren't going to hit that? I've seen dwarves look at gold and beer with less intensity.**"

Erasmus's head shook slowly, somberly. "**My boy, do not take this as a boast, but if I slung to my bed every woman that gave me that particular look you would have at least fifty other aunts by this time. To safeguard against this, I have taken up very stringent, and high, standards. Standards that no woman since your aunt Setsuka meet.**"

He silently absorbed this as the rest of the bar went about its business, until Soul Calibur whispered something in his head. "_Hey, I just thought of a way you can say you are greater than Erasmus._" The sword suddenly had his complete, undivided attention. "_Since he seems so set against lying with other women, you can honestly say that the ladies like you more._"

Mentally, he responded while keeping eye contact with his father. "**So, what? I have the larger harem? That's your genius plan?**"

True, as of now he was already one-upping Erasmus in the mistress department, technically speaking if he counted the purely mental intimate connection he had established with Soul Calibur, though the balance could easily shift if his father's declaration was even half-true. An approaching figure drew his attention, a young mermaid, this one adorned with iridescent violet scales and hair, carrying a tray burdened by a very large opaque bottle.

The girl slid the bottle off of the tray and onto their table before speaking; "Compliments of Madame Shyarly." A petite hand dove into the pocket on the front of the apron the mermaid was wearing, withdrawing with a folded piece of paper that she held out in front of Erasmus. "And, this is for you sir."

The senior Overlord accepted the note and opened it, presumably reading whatever was written on it in the time it took to blink before airing a comment. "**Well, that's certainly forward of her.**" The Old Man's crimson eyes turned to the waitress. "**Young lady, I don't suppose you would happen to be carrying a writing utensil that I could borrow for a few seconds?**"

After a few seconds of fumbling the mermaid did indeed hand over a small pencil, with which Erasmus started to write a response to whatever "forward" advance Shyarly had made. As for himself, he was eying the waitress as she waited with her hands folded daintily over the tray for his father to finish, clearly believing that she would be delivering the correspondence.

With a slight nudge of the elbow he drew the waitress's attention to him. "**So tell me, did old Shyarly give you any kind of reason for being so generous?**"

The mermaid's head tilted back slightly. "Well, no. But he seems like a very, um, gentlemanly person."

He leaned slightly closer, chin propped up in the palm of his hand. "**Trust me, he's too old for you.**" After a few stuttered objections from the waitress he continued. "**Oh please, why else would you tart yourself up so much?**" A lecherous smirk spread across his face; "**Unless of course you just always look this good.**"

Blushing furiously, the young mermaid snatched both the note and her pencil from Erasmus's hands and started off across the bar towards the back, but about halfway there her head turned just enough so he could catch the furtive, covetous glance she threw his way. And he was quite sure it was he the look was intended for as well, mostly because his father hadn't done anything even close to flirting.

Speaking of, he brought his gaze back to meet the pair of burning gems that were regarding him with an unknowable intent, "**Too old, eh?**"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "**I didn't hear you speak up to say otherwise.**" Reaffirmed in his superiority, at least in something, he slid out of the booth and stood up. "**You know what, I think I should get going and make this big attack happen. It'll look like I made a recovery far faster than you made it out to be.**"

His father meshed his fingers together for a moment before letting out a tiny sigh and rising, a quiet note of disappointment clearly present in his voice; "**As you wish, Acheron.**"

As soon as they both exited the bar a thought occurred to him. "**Say, what was on that little love note Shyarly sent you?**"

Erasmus stiffly replied, looking straight ahead. "**It wasn't a love letter. The Madam was simply offering to share a glass of wine and talk. My reply was a polite decline, a postponement.**" The elder Overlord turned his gaze sharply. "**You really cannot think all women are so base.**"

He shrugged of the rebuke, if that is what it was, and kept walking. It didn't matter to him after all, and he was confident in his analysis of the large mermaid regardless of what his father said. He glanced back up at the face of the man walking in lockstep and he could've sworn something wet caught a glimmer of light inside the black of the helmet, something near Erasmus's left eye. He dismissed it as a figment of his imagination.


	13. World's End

Chapter 13: World's End

Open Ocean: Mariejois outskirts

Acheron gazed out over the vast armada of pirate ships assembled around the Grim Angel, the de facto flagship simply by him standing upon it, and smiled. Finally, after having to knuckle under to a washed up pirate lord, namely Edward Newgate, and put up with so much shit, specifically Impel Down, he could bring about a glorious revolution and smack the World Government around like the sniveling little kids back in Nordburg. The only thing that diminished the moment was that both his father and mother were perched up on the poop deck, watching him, more so his father than his mother. After all, Sophitia hadn't really done anything to put him off yet, and he figured he owed her big for the simple act of giving birth to him. Also, there was the fact that it bothered him to see every pirate on board giving his mother the same sort of leering stare that he shot at any other pretty girl. Not that she wasn't worthy of it just, oh that thought felt so awkward even in the confines of his head.

He turned towards Clayton, who was one of those guilty for leering at his mother. "**Remind me of the plan, and how Miss Snake Princess is fitting into this whole thing.**"

The pirate either didn't hear him, unlikely, or was simply ignoring him. "I tell you what lad, I take back every nasty thing I ever said about your mother, both in public and in private…"

He blew up at the former captain, roaring at the top of his lungs. "**Yes I get it; my mom has a serious case of MILF going on! Now will you focus on something other than her tits so we can sack Mariejois before the day is out?**"

Clayton finally looked him in the eye, grinning like a fiend. "I could very easily focus on something other than her tits, preferably her ass. But I do get your point." The pirate bellowed an order at the rest of the crew. "Alright lads, run up the flag. Let's show those bastards who they're dealing with!"

He briefly watched the sudden frenzy of activity before turning back to the former captain, "**Again, the plan?**"

Clayton nodded once, grey eyes gleaming. "Aye, I think I can do that." The pirate pointed off towards the walls of the city. "We made a bit of a show of chasing the wench inside the walls before backing off. Once we deal with their navy Boa Hancock's supposed to open the gates to let us into their harbor. After that the city is essentially ours, since we so drastically outnumber the Marines. The only real difficulty might be taking the castle on the inside, but I figure you and your fancy devil fruit can solve that problem when we get to it."

Soul Calibur whispered in his head. "_Don't look now, but I think I heard a note of respect in that_."

He silently agreed and gestured towards the distant walls. "**Well, what are you waiting for? Send in the ships!**"

Clayton obeyed and made a series of overt gestures to one of the crew stationed high up in the rigging. That pirate started waving a couple of small colored flags in a complex pattern that he couldn't quite follow or understand. But he understood the effect quite well, as whatever was said sent his fleet charging forward over the waves towards the arrayed navy of the World Government.

Momentarily satisfied, and smirking like a champ, he ascended to the poop deck and leaned on the railing next to his mother. "**So, what do you think of my grand armada?**"

Erasmus swept his glowing gaze across the charging ships left and right, silent for a moment as he formulated a response. "**Honestly, I think both the words 'grand' and 'armada' are overstatements. Your troops are rowdy, undisciplined, and very loosely organized. Though I suppose one can expect no more from pirates on such a scale. Further, it does say quite a bit in your favor that you managed to cobble this mass of drunken fools together at all.**"

His mother shot him a crooked smile, shrugging as she answered. "I'll be honest, I know next to nothing about ships and navies. So I'll have to agree with Erasmus by default." Sophitia took two steps and planted a light kiss upon the right cheek of his helmet. "I'm very proud of you Acheron."

He felt his face start to burn as he heard the low snickers of the crew and grumbled. "**Mom, not right here in front of everyone.**"

Soul Calibur took that moment to make things worse. "_Aw, isn't that cute? You're embarrassed by mommy kissing you in public._"

The sword started to laugh, but he quickly put a stop to that by jabbing a thumb into what counted as her eye. The single squawk of surprise and slight pain ended the jingling sound of laughter from the sword, but only sparked the low rumbling chuckle of his father and the musical little giggle of his mother. In short, his efforts did nothing to alleviate the humiliation.

Erasmus gestured out to sea, at the far port side of the World Government navy. "**I would like to amend what I said just prior with one last detail, your men seem to be extremely poor tacticians. The enemy ships are arranged in a long line, a line which is bending around your advancing vessels and surrounding them. This action will trap the majority of your fleet in a deadly crossfire.**"

Faced with this observation he was forced to closely look towards the lines of ships spreading out ahead of his charging pirate allies. Truly, the World Government fleet was wrapping around the pirates like a sheet would close around a thrown object. Already, cannon fire was ripping into the leading pirate ships that were currently unable to return fire.

He brought his clutched fists down on the railing in anger, splintering the wood in his frustration. "**Damn, why do I get stuck with idiots at every opportunity? What the fuck did I do to deserve this?**"

Slowly, almost without conscious thought, his head turned towards his father as the ships at the front of his armada started to explode, powder kegs igniting with thunderous roars one after the other.

Erasmus met his gaze, bloody eyes dimly glowing. "**Would you like some help?**" He hesitated, dreading that he might appear weak in front of, well, anyone, but the senior Overlord continued little more than a heartbeat later. "**A general, or in this case an admiral, cannot be blamed for the stupidity of his soldier's actions when they are not under his direct mental command. Those men that are dying have only themselves to blame, and the footnotes of history will remember it that way. They will remember you as the monarch that saved his people.**"

He bit his lip, hesitated for a moment, and then broke. "**Fine, yes I would like a little help with destroying the fleet. But I don't see how you're going to do anything from the deck.**"

His father shot him a wink that resembled a small explosion before unlimbering the gigantic, blood-red greatsword that clung to the back of his armor, the blade which could be nothing but Soul Edge. "**Please, have a little bit of faith Acheron.**" The man used one arm to gesture to the far off World Government fleet off the port side of the Grim Angel. "**I'll take this side, and you can deal with the other one. We'll meet up at the gate, where we'll tear it down together.**"

Before he could even begin to ask the redundant question of how his father planned on getting to the far off World Government ships the question was answered for him. The old Overlord took a short hop away from the railing, took one jogging step forward, and catapulted himself off into the bright sky at an insane velocity, far more that he had managed out of Clayton's "man-cannon." As he watched his father essentially fly to the distant ship it momentarily occurred to him that he could open a portal in front of the Old Man and simply send the geezer into the briny deep to drown, but, his mother was standing right next to him and that was the man she loved. Damn, he couldn't just kill the guy off. His mother would never forgive him. Off in the distance his father came down precisely on the middle on the frigate, and it seemed like only a few seconds of blindingly fast blade work before the burning husk of a ship was sinking into the ocean and his father was leaping to the next ship in line like a black, fiery harbinger of doom.

He snarled as he realized that largely the same was expected from him. "**Ok Old Man, you want to play like that? Fine, I'll beat you to that gate by a mile!**"

He did an about face, ignoring the concerned look on his mother's face as he leaped off of the opposite railing and mirrored what his father had done, only through portal use and not raw physical power, and landed atop the mast of the first World Government ship that was harassing, and ultimately slaughtering, his pirate allies. With raw frustration and rage fueling his ingenuity, he opened a portal directly beneath the ship he was standing on, which dropped both him and his suddenly free falling perch through another equally large portal that dropped the improvised projectile square on top of a different frigate. Both ships were horribly mangled by the impact and immediately started to sink as their combined mass overwhelmed any buoyancy that either could provide by itself. He shot a glance towards the far side of the aquatic battle field, toward his father, and was stunned and further enraged by the observation that there were already four more burning wreaks to join the first Erasmus had made, and a fifth soon joined the tally.

He roared across the water, however unlikely it was that his elder would hear him. "**You're not going to beat me, you hear that?**"

A sixth ship exploded violently as soon as he finished speaking, and Soul Calibur lazily commented. "_Clearly not, because he's still, how do people put it, handing your ass to you on a plate._"

Bellowing in an almost berserker rage he dove for the deck of the doomed ships and opened another portal, this one to the poop deck of the largest ship on his side of the nautical battle, a massive war galley with row upon row of cannons shooting thundering balls of iron into the splintering ranks of the regular pirates. A tall man in a fancy white coat turned as soon as his metal boots hit the deck, because they came down hard and loud, but he didn't even think before whipping Soul Calibur off of his back and cutting the man in half from shoulder to hip. He raced for the helm, snatching it and giving it a violent spin to starboard and redirecting the next accidental volley towards the three ships he could strike, and strike he did. All three of the other vessels were taking on water and were surely doomed to the depths. But he wasn't about to stop there, with a spark of brutal genius he turned his attention towards the cannons lining the upper deck, now sitting abandoned by their crews, and raised his hands like a conductor for an orchestra. One after the other, each accompanied by the extremely satisfying sound of tortured, splintering wood, he dropped each massive cannon on the deck of another ship from a height significant enough to cause the heavy piece of metal to crash right through all the levels of wood and right out the bottom of the hull. At least twelve more sinking ships could now be attributed directly to him.

He struck one clenched fist against his chest as he looked out at the spreading wreckage. "**YES! That's how a pro takes care of business!**"

Again, Soul Calibur saw fit to ruin the moment. "_Well, the pro needs to get his but in gear, because he is still losing, badly._"

Twenty something burning wreaks now littered the other side of the conflict, and he blurted out a furious question as he rushed to make up the difference. "**Do these fucking things explode the moment he touches them?**"

Proceeding as fast as he could push himself, using whatever methods his mind could pick up on the spot, he raced across the ships of the enemy fleet, destroying them as he went. Really, his methods of destruction were fairly limited as he was trying for maximum speed at the same time. All he could really do was drop heavy objects from on high onto frigates ahead of him, and smaller ships onto the galleons. It was effective, but the repetition was grating to him.

Soul Calibur got his attention. "_Whoa, whoa ok you can stop now! Don't sink everything! I don't want to end up stuck on the bottom of the ocean for the rest of time!_"

Surprise brought him pause, he was indeed standing on the last vessel of the entire enemy fleet. So, what did that mean for the little competition proposed by his father? Did he dare to hope that he had destroyed his half of the fleet first?

What sounded like applause, and indeed sincere applause if a bit low in volume, reached his ears. "**You are definitely a son of mine, no one else could have ripped through those ships as fast.**" He looked towards the sound, and his heart sank. Erasmus was leaning against the mast of the ship as casually as could be amidst a brutal scene of slaughter. "**I would have but one piece of criticism for you…**" The elder Overlord left the mast, clearly having arrived at this point long before, and gestured far off to the starboard side of the current ship; "**...You missed one.**"

With a wince he turned to look back the way he had come, dreading the sight but needing to make sure his father wasn't simply jerking him around. And indeed, there was one ship bobbing away on the open water, fleeing as fast as it could from volley after volley the now ragged pirate fleet was sending after it. The Marines were clearly disciplined, but no amount of training could account for having a fleet destroyed almost entirely by two men.

A light pat on his shoulder pulled him from his dark brooding. "**Acheron, relax, one straggler is easily remedied.**" There was a sudden sharp sound, fingers snapping, which was followed immediately by the fiery detonation of the fleeing Marine frigate. "**See? And not a soul left to challenge the two of us.**" Soft clunks on the gore-slickened deck accompanied his father's continuing speech. "**Now, why don't we turn this thing edge on and give that gate a good broadside?**"

He felt the need to break in, and did so. "**Ah, just so you know I have an inside man to deal with that part. In fact, they should be doing their job any second now…**"

He waited, and just when he thought he was going to look like a bigger idiot in front of his Old Man the gates of Mariejois started to open inwards with a mighty creaking of timbers. There was also a large outcry from the top of the wall, and who he assumed to be more Marines started flying off.

Soul Calibur commented, as she often did. "_Well, looks like the spoiled princess can actually take care of herself. Who'd have thought?_"

Recovering his aplomb with a part of his plan going smoothly, he dashed to the helm and spun the captured frigate towards the opening gates. "**It looks like they're rolling out the welcome mat for us. And I'd hate to disappoint them.**"

Mariejois:

Erasmus Killgore stared straight ahead as Acheron guided their stolen ship inside the port of whatever city this was, taking flaming potshots at the soldiers that were waiting on the ever closer wharf and watching them scatter like kindling in a gale. These men seemed cowards one and all, but then this organization Acheron was focused on destroying might have been banking on the might if their navy to prevent an invasion, such as the one they were mounting right now, from ever happening. Understandable, but not being prepared for the eventuality of a breach was an unforgivable tactical blunder. In short, these political figures that lived in the gaudy castle deserved everything they would get from the disenfranchised brigands that Acheron was leading.

On the topic of his son, he disturbingly detected a certain amount of hostility directed towards him. Acheron hid it well, but he was undeniably furious at his return, the complete opposite of what he had been hoping for. In all honesty though, he hadn't been expecting to return to find a fully adult version of the little boy he had left behind only two years ago. Of course, those two seemed to have been twenty for Acheron. He smiled a little at the name, remembering when Sophitia had picked it out. The irony of course, though he would never broach the topic with her, was in the source of the name. "Acheron" was, at least in Greek myth, which was quite fitting since Sophitia was Greek, the name of a river in the Underworld that the dead crossed first. This river was the river of forgetfulness. So in the birth of her new family, Sophitia was unwittingly trying to forget the old one.

He let out a short sigh as their stolen vessel made contact with the dock, muttering a short wish under his breath. "**Dear Sophitia, may the child of your body at least accept you without reservation.**"

Acheron dashed forward as the rest of the pirate fleet filed through the gates and filled the harbor. "**Look, I'm sure I don't need you to raid the place, so why don't you just kick back and watch, alright?**"

He could detect the note of challenge in his son's words, the fact that Acheron was all but daring him to say no. "**As you wish, Acheron. I'll just walk along in the wake of your forces, after all, I do wish to see you in your moment of triumph.**"

His words were carefully selected to sound neutral, and to be as supportive as he could manage. But the look on Acheron's face was still a smarmy sneer as the young man flat out sprinted off towards the gathering band of pirates milling at the end of the docks. A raucous yell was all that it took to send the mob, for that's all they really were, off to pillage the town to the ground.

With a melancholy sigh he set off in the wake of the mob, like he had said he would, observing the destruction that they had caused. Truth be told he could find some small admiration for the amount of damage they were causing, especially considering the extremely short amount of time they had had to cause it. Buildings were in ruins; almost as if a giant hand had simply reached down from the heavens and squashed the structures like one would a fly or an ant. Fires raged that bathed the whole scene with a delightfully hellish glow. And white garbed corpses littered his path with equal frequency to dead leaves in the late months of autumn. He paused momentarily, noticing a particular corpse, or maybe not, slumped against the right side of the street, hand seemingly stretching for a flask that lay several inches away from the stretched out fingers of the reaching limb.

He knelt down and turned the body over, recognizing the face immediately as the pirate captain that had commanded the ship Acheron and he had stood upon at the start of this battle. "**You, Clayton was it not?**"

The pirates gray eyes glittered with an undiminished spark of defiance, despite the line of bloody holes stitched across the man's bare chest. "Aye, that I am." The man looked back and again reached for the fallen flask. "Would ya lend an old brigand a hand here?" After he did so, and Clayton had taken a rather large drink from the foul smelling contents, the wounded pirate started to tell the tale behind the mortal wounds without being asked. "Kind of stupid to be honest, I forgot that with that jackass you call a son around I'm not invincible like I usually am. So I rush out ahead like I usually do…" The dying man gestured to the line of bloody holes with his chin. "And I think you can figure the rest out."

He eyed the puckered edges of the gunshot wounds, his practical mind filing the details away for future use. "**Then you blame Acheron for this, your imminent demise?**"

The pirate shook his head, seeming to have to struggle a little to complete the gesture. "Nah, I'm the one that ran out in front like an idiot. The guy may be an insufferable ass, but I do have to respect the guy. More than half the crap he's done has saved our asses in ways he couldn't begin to imagine if someone didn't explain it to him." A dry chuckle turned into a hacking cough as the end drew closer. "That, and I can only envy the bastard for his luck with the ladies." Clayton raised his flask as high as his supine form could manage. "Here's to you, you perverse, senseless asshole. May the sea always welcome you with open arms, and may glory follow you ever after."

He nodded once, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "**That was well spoken, especially so for a pirate. Though I hope the jab at the stereotype doesn't offend you.**"

There was no response forthcoming from Clayton, nor would there be. The hand that had held aloft the flask of liquor had fallen down to the side, loosing the now empty container to roll away across the blood soaked flagstones. With a quiet sigh he withdrew two coins from his purse, gold was all he carried, and set them across the eyes of the dead pirate after a light touch closed them. In all likelihood they would be stolen by the next person to walk by, but it was the gesture that mattered. He gathered that Clayton had been nigh indispensible to Acheron making it to this point, and that deserved thanks even if Acheron either didn't realize it or didn't care. Regardless, judging by the especially loud sound of splintering wood that was just now reaching his ears, Acheron had arrived at the castle far ahead, and he wanted to see how this whole affair was going to end.

Mariejois: Castle

Acheron marched forward, although swaggered would probably be more descriptive, at the head of a crowd of riotous brigands that were about to boot the only real authority so hard off of their little hill that they would never recover, and if they did it would only be under his oppressive thumb. Speaking of which he hadn't had to so much as draw Soul Calibur to get all the way here. His rabble of pirate allies had done all of the heavy lifting, and his direct intervention had only been required once to open the castle gate. Over the course of the rampage he had heard plenty of shouts of degradation towards a group of people that were called the "World Nobles," and ultimately they had been painted as the single most hated people in the entire world. He personally had no idea where in hell he was going, but the shouted commentary from his posse and the frightened glances of the scattered servants told him everything he needed to know. Left, right, and then another left brought him to a large set out doors that practically screamed "gaudy noble" to all onlookers.

He hopped forward through the doors, leaving his army to do the breaking, took in the scene of who he assumed to the World Nobles arranged around the room at an elevated level, and his proclamation of victory burst from him like fire from a dragon. "**Ladies and gentlemen, you now have the distinct pleasure…**" He bowed forward mockingly, a devil's smirk spreading across his face. "**…Of surrendering to me immediately.**"

Soul Calibur threw in her two cents. "_Or you can die, your choice._" She added quietly to him, "_We can kill them right?_"

He muttered softly, "**Yes we can kill them, if we have to. I'd rather humiliate them a bit first though.**"

There was an extremely loud crunching sound as the door behind him was smashed open, and a still louder cry of fury as the pirates flooded into the chamber. Were he big on poetry or other sappy things, he might be inclined say something flowery to the flabbergast people arrayed around the room.

He smoothly gestured, with both arms and without turning around, at his posse of troops. "**Convinced yet?**" He blinked twice, finally noticing an odd feature about the World Nobles and airing the appropriate question. "**Ok, probably sounds pretty random, but what the fuck is with the glass bubble-heads?**"

A random pirate that he could not see answered. "They think they're better than all of us, that we don't even deserve to breathe the same air."

He rolled his eyes at the absurdity of it, the concept that putting on a glass bubble for a head would separate someone. Where did the damn air come from in the first place that they were breathing on the inside of those things?

With a subtle gesture he opened a portal behind him, taking a step back through and smoothly turning to look at the back of the Nobel he was suddenly behind. "**Surprise,**" he uttered as he snatched the Noble, a woman, by the scruff of the neck.

He dragged his captive forward, towards the edge of the overlook while the other Nobles scattered with various indignant shrieks and cries of terror, before lifting the hostage over the edge. "**Now boys, I'd tell you to be gentle, since I'm very sure this prude is extremely fragile, but I'm going to leave that up to all of you. Enjoy!**" With a flick of his wrist he tossed the World Noble towards the crowd, jumping down only moments later as the pirates cleared out with their "prize."

He smiled and stretched, meshing his hands together behind his head. For the time being he would let things run their course, let the pirates at large work out whatever grievances they had against the World Government before he stepped in to take over. He had freed them all from this oppressive regime so they would universally respect him, and he could crush devil fruit users with a twitch of his wrist, so they would also universally fear him. It was the ultimate combination for ruling a world, or at least he thought so. If not, well he could always crush an uprising with one fell swoop, if his headlong race against the Old Man was proof of anything.

The voice of that exact person broke in on his private thoughts and caused him to jump. "**That was a very, creative choice for humiliating your defeated enemy.**" His father, Erasmus, emerged from the shadows near the chamber door like one would waltz into a ballroom. "**I suppose you have further plans to solidify your grasp on this world?**"

He responded honestly, which felt remarkably easy. "**Yeah, I guess. I figure I'll give them about a week to cool off after this fiasco before I make my big move for ultimate control. Anyone that doesn't like it can take it up with me then.**"

The god of Evil nodded only once, in what could be assumed to be approval. "**I see. One more thing though, I met a young woman on my way up here going the other way, she expressed a desire to see you before her departure. She had long dark hair, a red gown, and snake earrings. Does that sound familiar?**"

He chuckled wickedly, as that description did indeed sound like someone that he knew. "**That depends, you're missing one critical detail that'd seal the deal on her identity.**" A Cheshire cat smile spread across his mouth. "**Did you notice how stacked this girl was?**"

The glowing red eyes of his father narrowed just slightly, and he spoke with a note of disdain. "**My powers of observation are quite intact if that is what you are implying, my boy. And I am also perfectly capable of utilizing this crude lingo you seem enamored with.**" The god's arms crossed in front of his chest and he leaned forward. "**Put in your particular dialect of the common tongue…**" There was a pause clearly inserted for dramatic effect; "**Stacked enough to envelop a man's head.**"

He chuckled, turned on his heel, and walked towards the exit while throwing a smartass wave over his shoulder.

His father's voice chased him out of the chamber. "**I am proud of you, Acheron. Never forget that.**"

Mariejois Harbor:

Acheron sauntered down towards the docks and the ship that obviously belonged to Boa Hancock, basking in the afterglow of his victory. The female guards that barred the way parted wordlessly, and with tiny nods, as he boarded and swaggered towards the woman that stood at the bow.

His smooth voice flowed out as he poured on the charm. "**Hancock I'm hurt, you almost left without saying goodbye? Shocking!**"

The Snake Princess's back went ramrod straight at his first word, and she half-turned to look at him. "N, Nonsense, I sent for you!" It was hard to tell in the dim light of evening, but he suspected Hancock's face was a brilliant shade of red. "W, what game are you playing at?"

He leaned closer, taking special note of how she didn't so much as bat an eyelash at his invasion of her personal space. "**Game huh? Well, this game is one I think very much that you want to lose, if you catch my drift.**"

Boa Hancock started to say something, but it was drowned out in a startled gasp as he snatched the woman around her slender waist and dragged her against him, locking mouths together and probing the inside of hers with his tongue. It took a moment, but within the space of about five heartbeats the Empress of Amazon Lilly was mewling like a kitten and getting, quite literally, tongue-tied. His persistent groping of her ass could only have helped matters.

He broke their lip to lip contact, against the very obvious sound of disapproval Hancock made. "**Look girl, I'm sure you have a very nice bed right in the cabin. Why don't you go and get ready, I'll be down in just a second.**"

Looking incredibly flustered, Hancock nonetheless did as he had suggested and shuffled off towards the cabin. She was muttering something furiously, but he couldn't quite make it out.

The moment he heard the door click shut he rounded on the ship's crew, all of them predictably female. "**Well, what are you all waiting for? Shove off!**" He turned towards the bow and pointed off towards the setting sun dramatically. "**Give me that horizon!**"

He stood there, pride swelling inside his chest, until the ship cleared the harbor of Mariejois before turning smartly on his heel and heading for the cabin.


End file.
